


How Not to Say No

by Tenukii



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Slash, Slash, and then, but Tivan owes him, freeloading duck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:12:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 54,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6230857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenukii/pseuds/Tenukii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taneleer Tivan never could say no to Loki, although not for the reasons one would expect.  This becomes even more of a problem than usual when Loki decides that he needs more tesseracts, and that the Collector is the man to find them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This little story sprouted from a plot bunny that struck me on my commute. I. . . I don’t know. Don’t judge me, please ;X;

“This really isn’t a good time,” the Collector sniffed as he drifted through his showroom to greet his visiting client.  Most of the debris from the Orb incident had been cleared by now, but many of his display cases remained empty.  _No assistant, half of my collection destroyed, me looking positively frightful, and **he** has to come in_ , Taneleer Tivan sulked to himself.  It didn’t help that Howard the Duck was leaning against a case near the back of the room, already sipping his second cocktail of the day.  For all the complaining he had done during his stint as one of Tivan’s _objets d’art_ , Howard seemed to like it there: he had, so far, refused to leave.  He claimed that Tivan owed him restitution for the trauma he’d experienced, and by restitution, the avian meant fancy meals and a lot of liquor.

“What happened?  Are you redecorating?”  Tivan’s _other_ guest—the one who might actually buy something—smiled in that way he had: not quite a smirk, not quite mocking.

“Yes,” Tivan said, as haughtily as he could manage, although he heard Howard scoff from somewhere behind him.  Tivan decided that he’d be dining on _canard à l’orange_ that evening if Howard quacked a single word to Loki of Asgard about how the Collector had let one of the Infinity Stones slip from his grasp.  But Howard kept his large beak shut for once, and although Loki’s raised eyebrow indicated he didn’t quite believe Tivan, he didn’t press the issue.

“This shouldn’t take very long,” Loki pointed out instead.  He was still smiling like that, damn him.  “In fact, we would already be finished if you had seen me right away.”  Tivan harrumphed and busied himself with polishing a minute spot on the glass of one cabinet—something he had had to do himself since the. . . accident.  He _had_ made Loki wait, if only to prove that the Collector was one of the few beings in the galaxy who wouldn’t kowtow to the Asgardian.  Tivan got away with it because he knew Loki needed him, or rather, needed the services only he could provide.  Who else but the Collector could procure such lovely treasures as. . . well, whatever it was Loki wanted this time?

Yes, that was why Loki had had to wait, as proof that Tivan hurried for no one.  It certainly wasn’t because Tivan had needed the extra time to touch up his makeup—“guyliner,” Howard called it, whatever that meant—and fret over the bruised abrasion still healing below his right eye.  At least he didn’t need the bandage anymore and could style his hair normally.

But even after all that (completely coincidental) attention to his appearance, Tivan still felt hopelessly out-prettied by Loki.  The Asgardian managed to be beautiful without any of the enhancements Tivan used.  He looked younger, of course—nearly everyone in the universe _was_ younger than Tivan.  But it was more than that.  Something about Loki’s eyes, mostly, maybe that they were so very green and sparkled in such a way, particularly when he smiled.

Tivan shook himself mentally, resigned to beginning the usual back-and-forth he always went through with clients.  Like almost everything else in his life, it was a show, almost an illusion to conceal that there was very little depth to him at all anymore.

“Would you care for a drink?” he asked Loki.

“No, thank you.”  Loki’s smile tightened, almost imperceptibly.  If not for the fullness of his lower lip, the wan grimace might have seemed prudish; as things stood, Tivan decided it was more of a pout.  Loki really wasn’t very patient, which gave Tivan something of the upper hand he so desperately needed.

“You oughta reconsider,” Howard called from his spot in the back.  “He don’t look like much, but Whitey makes a damn fine cocktail.”

Loki once more demurred, although the corners of his mouth turned up a little more.  Tivan clenched his jaw and turned to shoot a glare at his unwanted houseguest.

“Howard, as much as I adore your company, my valued guest may wish to discuss his needs in private.  If you’ll leave us for a few moments. . . ?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get outta your hair,” Howard acquiesced.  “Probably the _only_ thing that’ll get out of it if you don’t cut back on the gel,” he muttered as he waddled out of the showroom, rattling the ice in his glass as he went.  Tivan closed his eyes a moment to calm his nerves, then turned back to Loki with as much of a smile as he could manage.

“My apologies.  Now, where were we?”

Loki folded his arms across his thin chest, clad in a forest-green tunic that set off his eyes quite nicely.  “You were very politely not asking me why I am here.”

“Right.”  Tivan sighed; so much for the usual back-and-forth.  He should have known he couldn’t charm a master trickster, anyway.  “So.  How may I be of service?”

“I’m looking for something.”  Loki turned away from him and began to pace through the showroom as he examined what few cases which still contained objects.

“Yes.  What, may I ask, are you seeking?”  As Tivan watched the Asgardian stalk about, his eyes fell to Loki’s slender legs.  His pants were black and close-fitting, almost of a feminine cut, but they suited him.

“This.”  Loki had stopped before a case holding a single object: a crystalline cube within which a smaller cube was suspended.  The item caught the showroom’s dim lighting and refracted it into delicate spectra.

“Ah yes, the tesseract model.”  Of course Loki would want _that_.  Tivan moved to join him beside the case.  “My newest acquisition, from a broker on Xandar.”

“Well, I should be clear: not this, precisely,” Loki murmured.  He turned his vivid eyes to meet Tivan’s gaze.  “While it is quite lovely, it cannot compare to _her_.”

Tivan looked back at him from under flattened white brows.  “‘Her.’”

“The real tesseract.”  Loki’s eyes shifted again to the iridescent model.  “She is exquisite, the most beautiful creature in the cosmos.”

“‘She.’”  For the first time, Tivan believed the rumors that Loki was quite insane.  Not that the tesseract _wasn’t_ exquisite, not that Tivan wouldn’t have loved to get it off of Asgard and into his own collection. . . but Loki spoke of it like it was alive.  What’s more, he spoke of it as he would a lover.

Loki glanced back at the Collector.  He was smiling again, but this time, it was a true smile, joyous, the kind that made his eyes glitter.  “Oh—well, they _are_ biologically sexless, but she uses the female gender.”

“Biologically— _what_?”  Tivan shook his head and drew a hand through his feathery white hair.  “My dear Loki, are you trying to tell me your tesseract is alive?”

“Oh yes.”  Loki’s smile grew, showing his teeth.  “And she has told me of others of her kind.  I want you to find them for me.”

“ _What_?”  The Collector gaped at him.  In all his years, Tivan had never found one trace of another tesseract, much less discovered any way of actually obtaining one.  “Loki, I. . . I am sorry, but what you ask is impossible, even for me.  There are no other tesseracts, and even if there were, I wouldn’t know where to _begin_ finding them.”

Loki’s smile fell away from his delicate face like a discarded article of clothing.  “There _are_ others,” he insisted, green eyes snapping.  “She said so.”

“A-all right, but even so.”  Tivan knew he was treading on dangerous ground.  He might not fear Loki the way others did, but he still didn’t want to incur the Asgardian’s wrath. . . especially if Loki was losing his sanity and imagining that a tesseract had spoken to him.  “I have no idea how to obtain such a thing for you.  I’m afraid I must refuse you.”

“Please, Taneleer.”  The Collector tensed at the changed tone of Loki’s voice, as much as at the Asgardian’s use of his first name.  Being quite a manipulative man himself, Tivan was well aware of all the ways Loki might try to influence him.  Nevertheless, the Asgardian sounded so sincere—so much like he _needed_ Tivan—the Collector was put on the defensive.

“I will pay whatever price you ask,” Loki continued.

“I don’t doubt your ability to recompense me,” Tivan muttered.  “But I am being truthful when I say I have _no idea_ of where to hunt for tesseracts.  _None_.”

“Perhaps not yet.  But if anyone can accomplish this, you can.”  Loki suddenly grasped the Collector’s hands in both of his own, folding his fingers over Tivan’s.  Tivan jumped and stared down at their clasped hands.  For a moment, he only noticed that the black nail polish had chipped on his left thumb; any other thought was too outlandish to contemplate.

Finally, he flicked his eyes back up to Loki’s.  “Why do you want—more of them?” Tivan stalled.  “What can you accomplish with multiple tesseracts that you cannot do with one?”

Loki beamed.  “Why do _you_ want more of anything— _everything_ , Collector?  To _have_ them, of course.”

Tivan wasn’t sure he trusted that, considering what Loki had done in the past with his current tesseract.  But then, the Asgardian presumably had free access to that tesseract now, and he wasn’t trying to conquer any worlds with it. . . at least not that Tivan knew.  And anyway, it wasn’t the Collector’s policy to question what his clients did with their purchases.

Tivan gently extracted his hands from Loki’s and nodded.  “All right.  I will begin a search and reach out to my contacts.  However, I can’t make any promises.”

Loki said, “I understand,” but Tivan didn’t think he did.  Those spectacular eyes were still alight with confidence that Tivan would come through for him, just as he always had in the past.

_Someday, I’ll learn how to say no to him,_ Tivan assured himself.  Yes, someday when Loki’s eyes didn’t shine, and his glossy black hair didn’t hang to his shoulders so perfectly, and his lovely mouth didn’t smile like that.

“I don’t suppose your tesseract told you anything else about her kind, hmm?” Tivan asked Loki, just to be sure.  “Anything at all that might be helpful?”

“The tesseracts’ home planet is called Kythica.”

“ _What?_ ” Tivan gasped for the third time.  He had never heard of a planet, or anything else, named Kythica, but having any name at all to go on was an enormous boon.  “When were you planning on revealing _that_ little piece of information?”

“When you decided to take my request seriously,” replied Loki.  The almost-smirk was back, replacing the joyous smile Tivan preferred.

Tivan stifled a sigh and said again, “All right.  I will contact you with the results of my queries soon.”  He looked again at the tesseract model.  It was indeed lovely, but what had Loki called the real tesseract?  Exquisite?  As Loki himself weren’t far more exquisite than even the blue Infinity Stone!

“What really happened, Taneleer?”  Loki’s voice was quiet, closer than before, and when Tivan turned to stare at him, the pale face so near to his was serious.  No smirk, no smile, nothing but a slight drawing together of his low eyebrows.

“Pardon?”  Tivan honestly didn’t know what Loki meant until a long-fingered hand lifted to touch the healing wound on his face.

“Who did this to you?”

“I. . . no one,” Tivan huffed.  “It was an accident.”

“The same accident that decimated all these broken cases?” Loki persisted.  He shifted his hand to indicate the space around them, then dropped it to his side.  “Was that. . . feathered beast with the drink responsible?”

“Howard?”  Tivan laughed in spite of his discomfort at Loki’s nearness and his questioning.  “Hardly, dear boy.  Howard is. . . mostly harmless.”

“Who, then?”  Tivan’s eyes were drawn back to Loki’s face as the Asgardian grinned.  This time, the smile was mad.  Deadly.  “I’ll make him sorry, if you’d like.”

“No, no.”  The Collector sighed and shook his head.  “It honestly was an accident.  An explosion, and yes, it damaged quite a bit of my collection.  But the person responsible was—killed.”  A nice way to put it, that.  “So trust me, there’s no need to avenge me.  And anyhow,” Tivan added with a hint of skepticism, “I’ve already said I will do my best to help you.  There’s no need for you to win my favor by flattering me.”

“Win your favor?”  Loki’s grin faded.  “May I not simply be concerned for you?”

“I’m sorry,” Tivan murmured, although he saw no reason why Loki _would_ be concerned, “I did not mean to offend you, only that    you needn’t worry on my behalf.”

“Mmn,” Loki nodded.  “Then I will leave you to your search.”

He was still very near to Tivan, and the Collector wanted both to draw back and to move closer.  He compromised by remaining where he was as he asked, “Shall I send word to you when I have gathered more information?”

“Hmmm.  No, I think I will return myself.”  Loki’s eyes held Tivan’s with their intensity.  “I would prefer not to trust communication of that sort to a messenger. . . or any other form of transmission.  And I trust you won’t tell anyone _why_ you’re looking for tesseracts—or who is asking?”

“Of course not.”  Tivan laid a hand on Loki’s arm in a gesture meant to inspire confidence.  The touch was as highly artificial as the kisses he always placed upon the hands of ladies, yet he did enjoy the feel of Loki’s sleeve beneath his fingertips, and the slender but firm limb beneath that.  “I have always been the paragon of discretion.”

Loki smiled again, and again his eyes sparkled.  “I wonder about that, Taneleer.  But I trust you in this.”  He lifted his other hand and brushed it against Tivan’s wounded cheek.  “Do take better care of yourself from now on, my friend.”

Tivan could only nod as the Asgardian drifted away from him and out of the showroom, disappearing back into Knowhere.  The Collector stood frozen there a moment, but then he cringed when an abrasive, raucous laugh sounded from behind him.  He turned around to glare at Howard, now with a lit cigar in hand instead of a drink.

“Man, do you have it bad,” the duck chortled.

“I’ll thank you not to eavesdrop on my business transactions,” growled Tivan.  Unperturbed, Howard puffed on the cigar and kept chuckling.  Tivan scowled—he hated the smell of Howard’s smoking—and tried to distract himself by puttering around the showroom, tidying things.  “And what do you mean, I ‘have it bad’?  You’re referring to the task of hunting down non-existent tesseracts?”

Howard laughed again.  “Oh, not that.  You have it bad for _him_.  I mean, I always suspected you swung in that direction, but ain’t he a little on the creepy side?”  He paused to regard Tivan from beneath his feathered brows.  “Although so are you, so there’s that.”

Fuming, Tivan rounded on him from across the room.  “My relationships with my clients are strictly professional, and for that matter, _none_ of my relationships is any of your business!  Why—why are you even still _here_?” he finished, throwing both hands in the air.

Howard shrugged.  “Like I said.  You make a damn fine cocktail.”  He stretched and sauntered toward the corridor that led out of the showroom to the outside, as much as Knowhere _had_ an “outside.”  “He ain’t completely crazy, though,” the duck said over his shoulder.  “I _have_ heard stories about other tesseracts.”

“You have. . . ?”  As much as he hated to lend Howard any credence, Tivan needed all the information he could get if he intended to keep his promise to help Loki.

“ _And_ that there’s sentient ones.  Why anyone’d want a stack of talkin’ cubes is beyond _me_ , but it takes all kinds.”  Howard paused in the doorway and looked back at Tivan.  “Thing is, they say these sentient tesseracts tend to pick up the personalities of whoever’s been handlin’ ‘em.  That means if Loki’s tesseract is really alive, she’s gettin’ more and more like _him_ , the longer she’s around him.  I’m not sure how comfortable I am with there bein’ _two_ like him, one of ‘em a god and the other a tesseract.  You might wanna watch your back.”

As the duck turned away, Tivan called after him, “ _You’ve_ never heard of Kythica, have you?”

“Nope.”

Tivan sighed after Howard was gone; that the duck knew anything truly useful had been too much to hope.  He still had his doubts that there really were any other tesseracts to be found.  Even Howard had said he’d heard _stories_ , not that he’d actually _seen_ another tesseract.  Loki might very well be mad and have hallucinated entire conversations with a powerful but completely mindless glowing blue cube.  And even if the tesseract _was_ sentient, she might be lying.

Or. . . or _Loki_ might be lying.  Why he would deliberately send Tivan off on a wild tesseract chase was beyond the Collector’s grasp, but one could never tell with trickster “gods.”  And one thing Tivan knew for certain was that Loki had a reason for everything he did.

_Would he lie to me?_ the Collector wondered.  He picked up the polishing cloth and rubbed at the side of the tesseract model’s display case until he could see his own reflection in it, haloed by fragments of rainbows.  _Would he manipulate **me**?_   But of course Loki would, all the more easily if he learned of Tivan’s attraction to him.  Tivan didn’t delude himself that Loki would ever have a genuine interest in him, but he wouldn’t put it past the Asgardian to pretend in order to get what he wanted.

_All the more reason to hide how he makes me feel,_ Tivan thought. _And all the more reason to get that damned duck out of here before Loki returns!_

With that thought, the Collector put aside the problem of Loki and the tesseract, and began instead to decide how best to convince Howard the Duck to please, _please_ go home.

\--

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was originally supposed to be a one shot, so I kind of have no idea what I'm doing. I guess when I ship crack, it's all or nothing.

Tivan’s life had calmed somewhat after a few standard weeks had passed.  He’d had the damage to his showroom repaired, his wounds had healed leaving only a faint scar that could be easily covered with makeup, and best of all, Howard the Duck had finally shipped out for parts unknown.  The Collector still hadn’t found a slave— _assistant_ to replace Carina, however; after what she’d done, he was leery of trusting anyone else to do even the simplest of tasks for him.  This meant Tivan spent much of his time performing menial work he hadn’t done for himself in ages. . . and the rest of his time had been going toward tracking down tesseracts for Loki.

_Tesseracts that may or may not exist,_ Tivan sulked as he lay in bed one night (or what passed for night in Knowhere, where it was never really dark but never really light, either).  He was exhausted from a day spent meeting connections and tracking down leads, all to little avail.  None of the information he’d gathered had panned out, and in all the time since Loki had told him of the planet Kythica, Tivan had found only one being who even claimed to have heard of it.  He had encountered this being that very day—a miner Tivan found in the sort of bar he himself rarely even acknowledged, much less visited.  The man was so drunk, Tivan wasn’t sure he even knew what he was saying when he claimed he’d actually been to a world called Kythica on the far outer reaches of the galaxy.  Tivan had taken down the sketchy information but didn’t hold out much hope that it would prove useful.

If Loki returned any time soon, Tivan would have very little to tell him.  The Collector sighed as he imagined how disappointed Loki would be, how his confidence in Tivan would dissipate even though Tivan had told him several times that his quest was impossible.  Disappointing a client was bad for Tivan’s ego, considerable though it was. . . and he _so_ wanted to please Loki, in particular.

Of course, he could think of several other ways he’d like to please Loki, ways that had nothing to do with tesseracts.  Tivan frowned; he hadn’t meant to let his mind go in that direction. . . again.  The Collector firmly turned his thoughts back to tesseracts, determined to keep them there until he fell asleep.

\--

The next morning, Tivan received a message that Loki was returning that very evening.  The message was prerecorded, highly encrypted, and audio only, but the mere sound of the Asgardian’s calm voice sent Tivan into a bit of a panic; he spent the next two hours fretting over his showroom.  Although everything was already quite clean, the Collector kept moving objects around and adjusting them, unable to arrange them to his satisfaction.  Finally, he realized what was bothering him: all the empty cases.

“All those precious items, gone forever,” Tivan sighed aloud, although there was no one to hear him.  “How will I ever replace them?”  It wasn’t a matter of money; “ridiculously wealthy” didn’t even _begin_ to describe Taneleer Tivan.  Instead, the Collector simply lacked the time to go treasure hunting at the moment, between repairing the structural damage to his showroom and tracking down tesseracts.  And as much as Tivan loved the act of acquisition, he was extremely picky—or _discriminating_ as he preferred to call it.  It could take years, decades, _centuries_ to fill all the empty spaces in his gallery.  Tivan gave the top of a case one more swipe with his dust cloth then gave up on the showroom.

“I need to get out of here,” he muttered, again to no one, as he put away his cleaning supplies and combed his hair in front of a mirror he kept in the back of his gallery.  He was going out, but that wasn’t what he meant.  He needed to get out of _Knowhere_.  It had been far too long since he’d traveled, and perhaps a treasure hunt to replace some of his destroyed items was exactly the sort of excitement that would make him feel better.

“I’ll simply tell Loki I cannot help him,” Tivan told his reflection.  “If he wants to go looking for a planet some sot was babbling about, then _he_ can arrange it.  I’ve wasted far too much time on this ridiculous enterprise already.”  His reflection looked as if it agreed, and for the first time since the Orb incident, Tivan felt satisfied with something.

Despite his resolve to disassociate from Loki, Tivan’s first stop when he left the showroom was his salon.  After all, he would be more persuasive if he looked his best, wouldn’t he?  He snapped at both the stylist and manicurist for taking too long and decided to forego his usual pedicure—it wasn’t like Loki would be seeing his bare feet—to allow himself enough time to shop for a new jacket (which he had been planning for some time to buy anyway; it wasn’t as if he were making the purchase just to impress his visitor).  Afterward, he hurried back to his penthouse suite above his museum to get dressed, which was a rather lengthy process on any day.  On this particular day, it took even longer than normal.

In lieu of an assistant, the Collector had appointed a temporary doorman from among the thugs the Tivan Group maintained to act as hired muscle when Tivan himself or another high-ranking member needed them.  Despite having been bathed and dressed in an expensive suit, this particular specimen was a far cry from the image Tivan wished his museum to project. . . especially when Tivan descended from his penthouse to find the doorman standing in the doorway of the showroom with his blaster pointed at a guest.  This visitor—who, being a woman, was certainly not what Tivan had been expecting—was sitting in a chair meant to be purely ornamental.  Tivan gave her a cursory glance but was more concerned with the hired help’s potential to cause additional damage to his showroom with that blaster.

 “Good heavens,” Tivan groaned as he hurried over and plucked the blaster out of the doorman’s meaty hand.  “What do you suppose you’re doing?”

“This dame insisted on comin’ in,” the thug growled, “so we was waitin’ on you.  She’s lucky I didn’t shoot her!”

“ _You’re_ lucky I don’t shoot _you_ , you incompetent imbecile.  You’re supposed to keep people _out_ , not let them in!  Get out of here!”  Tivan gave the doorman a shove in the middle of his immense back.  It didn’t budge the man in the least.

“What about my blaster?” he protested.  “How’m I supposed to guard anything without my blaster?”

“I’ll tell you what you’ll be guarding if you’re not careful—the unemployment line!” muttered Tivan.  He glanced at the woman, who was watching the exchange with an amused look, and gave her a polite nod.  “Excuse us a moment.”  After a second shove, the doorman finally got the message and retreated down the corridor leading to the outer doors with Tivan storming after.  Once he got the thug outside, Tivan thrust the blaster back into his hands.

“Now.  If anyone else wishes to see me _,_ ” Tivan hissed, “do _not_ threaten to _shoot_ them.  Leave them out here, and come and _get_ me.  Understand?”  The thug nodded meekly.

Tivan took a moment to compose himself before returning to his surprise guest.  Now that he got a good look at her, he realized she was quite beautiful.  Long, dark hair reached her waist in waves that seemed to shift color in a mixture of black, violet, and a muted fuchsia.  Her skin was lightly tanned and her eyes almond-shaped above full, peach lips with a distinct cupid’s bow.  She wore a fitted, teal green dress with an elaborate beaded lattice neckline that plunged down her breast, leaving her shoulders and arms bare.  The dress exposed long, crossed legs from the knees downward.  All in all, it was not the best ensemble for walking around Knowhere but hardly out of line with what some of Tivan’s richer female clients wore.

Tivan performed his elaborate bow, and by the time he had straightened, the woman was standing with one thin eyebrow arched and her mouth pursed in something of a smirk.  Ordinarily, Tivan might not have been so welcoming of strangers barging into his museum unannounced, but she was extraordinarily lovely—and, of even greater interest to him, she appeared to be wealthy.  He decided that being polite would be to his advantage.

“Do please forgive me,” Tivan crooned.  “I’m between assistants at the moment and have had to resort to hiring some rather. . . coarse characters to safeguard my museum.”

“So I see.”  Her voice matched her hair: low, dark, flowing.

“I’m afraid that I already have an appointment this evening,” Tivan went on, “but if I may be of _any_ assistance, you’re welcome to return tomorrow. . . .”  He trailed off as he met the woman’s eyes for the first time.  They were as beautiful as the rest of her, a vivid green that was startling with their almond shaping. . . a _familiar_ vivid green.

Taneleer Tivan was very rarely rendered speechless, but uncertainty mixed with distinct embarrassment kept him from finishing his sentence.  He wasn’t sure, but he might even have been blushing.

“I was wondering if you would recognize me.”  A green light shimmered around the woman, and her form dissolved and reshaped itself into that of Loki, dressed as he had been when he last visited Tivan.  Loki looked stunning, as always.

Tivan found his voice again.  “I. . . yes.  Your eyes—they’re very distinctive.  Still, quite an enchanting disguise, however.  I assume there’s a reason for it?”

Loki laughed, showing his teeth.  “Yes, I’m not just showing off.  You previously said something about being the, how did you put it?  ‘Paragon of discretion’?  Does that still hold true?”  When Tivan nodded, Loki continued, “Well, let me put it this way.  I’m supposed to be dead.”

“Oh.”  Tivan blinked.  “I hadn’t heard.  My condolences.”

“Much appreciated,” Loki smirked.  “For the time being, I feel it’s in my best interests to continue to. . . play dead.  Still, I didn’t intend for you to see my disguise.  I wasn’t counting on your new doorman.”

“Again, I must apologize.”  Tivan paused then mused, “But why did you come to me in your true guise to begin with, if you wish to be thought dead?”

“Would you have agreed to help me otherwise?”  Loki took a step closer, his lips—now pale but still quite lovely—turning up at the corners.  “If you say you would acquire tesseracts for anyone else, Tivan, I’ll be heartbroken.  I thought we had something special.”

Once more, Tivan felt his cheeks grow warm, and he forced himself to ignore the comment.  “I am flattered by your trust in me.”

“I hope the increased security means you’ve found something of interest,” Loki continued.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t yet the case.”  Tivan noticed the flicker of a frown on Loki’s mouth and wondered if the Asgardian really thought he could have found a tesseract that quickly.  “However,” Tivan went on, “I do have some information for you.”

“Oh?”

“I found a single person who claims to have visited Kythica.  He knew nothing of tesseracts there, but he was able to tell me the general location of where he believes the planet to lie.”

“ _Where?”_   The sudden hunger evident in Loki’s eyes and voice unnerved Tivan, especially since he planned to tell Loki his assistance ended here.

“Patience, my dear boy,” Tivan murmured.  Frustration flashed in Loki’s eyes, but he didn’t push Tivan further.  The Collector continued, “I also must warn you that this source may not be reliable.  He was rather. . . inebriated.  I can’t promise you anything.”

“So you keep saying.”  Loki’s voice was tense, all playfulness and teasing gone.  “I understand, Tivan, you don’t make promises.  I never expected you to.  But are you going to tell me what you know or not?”

Tivan clasped his hands together.  “Of course.  However, this is neither the time nor the place.”

“Come now,” Loki hissed.  His eyes narrowed, making his whole face appear sharp and cold.  “What are you angling for?  Do you expect some sort of payment so soon, for no more than a single piece of information?”

_Oh dear,_ thought the Collector.  _What have I gotten myself into?_   If Loki had grown this irate at a mere delay in learning what Tivan had discovered, what sort of wrath would come when Tivan quit on him?  Tivan had already planned on putting that moment off as long as possible, ideally until after he had softened Loki up a bit; now that softening up seemed more vital than ever.

“Of course not, my friend,” Tivan assured him.  “It’s only that I fear you’ll go rushing off in search of Kythica immediately, and deprive me of your company for the evening.  I’d hoped to show you some of the pleasures Knowhere has to offer.”

“I hardly think those are the sort of pleasures that would interest me,” Loki scoffed.  “While fascinating, this place you’ve created is not to my tastes.”

Tivan clenched his teeth with an audible click.  Loki’s insolence and disdain infuriated the Collector as his other negative attributes had not.  Tivan knew better than anyone else what a wretched place Knowhere could be, but he was also proud of the operation he’d engineered and the economy that had sprung up around it.  And there _were_ hidden jewels within the rough spots, some of the finest establishments the galaxy had to offer.  There _had_ to be; after all, Tivan made his home there. 

“In that case,” Tivan said curtly, “I won’t detain you any longer than necessary.  The man who claimed he’d been to Kythica believes it is located in the second quadrant of the galaxy, somewhere along the 339-degree axis.  Likely on the very outskirts of the farthest arm.  That location is probably not _to your taste_ either, is it?  Too uncivilized to be _interesting_?”

Two expressions fought for dominance on Loki’s face, both his previous irritation and new surprise at Tivan’s abrupt acquiescence.

“Truthfully?” Loki murmured.  “Those are the directions he told you?”

“I wouldn’t deceive you,” snapped Tivan.  “And now you have your information, so you can go.”

“And deprive you of my company for the evening?” countered Loki.  His face had cleared to show no emotion except that damned smirk of his.  “Besides, you surely don’t expect me to go popping off to the furthest reaches of the galaxy all on my own.  You have resources for this sort of treasure-hunting, do you not?”

“You can arrange for the exploration yourself.  I told you I would gather information—I never agreed to anything more, and already I’ve wasted far too much time on your request. ”  Tivan no longer cared about appeasing Loki’s temper.  _Let him rage,_ the Collector thought with a glare at his guest.  _If I lose his future business, so be it._

“You’re angry with me,” Loki observed.  The smirk had faded, and now Loki merely looked thoughtful.  “Because I insulted your home?”

“You insulted _me_.”  Tivan drew himself up so that, although he and Loki were the same height, he seemed taller. . . especially considering the fluffiness of his hair.

“And so you refuse to help me any further?”  Loki took another step toward him, fixing his wide eyes on Tivan.  “Are you really so sensitive?”

“I was going to refuse anyway,” retorted Tivan.  “Except I had originally planned to buy you dinner first.”

Loki started laughing as Tivan bristled.  After his laughter faded to a smile and he caught his breath, Loki said, “Please, forgive me.  I suppose I _have_ been very rude to you, and you’ve been nothing but your usual charming self.  If you _truly_ wanted my company, you should have just said so.”

“ _Now_ you apologize,” Tivan muttered, trying not to weaken in spite of himself, “when you realize you still need my help.”

“Your help aside, I’m sorry.”  Loki moved closer, paused, then lifted a hand to Tivan’s shoulder.  “Tivan—Taneleer, I _am_ grateful for the information.  I won’t ask anything more of you, if you wish.  But do forgive me.”

Tivan knew he was being manipulated again, but the import of Loki’s apology was not lost on him.  He doubted Loki apologized very often.

“All right,” the Collector finally sighed, looking into Loki’s eyes to see them light up at his words.  “Consider yourself forgiven. . . my friend.”

“Do you still want my company this evening?” Loki murmured.  “Remember, you told me you wouldn’t deceive me.”

“Yes,” Tivan said with another sigh.  “If you’ll stay.”

\--

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

And so Taneleer Tivan found himself escorting Loki to Knowhere’s finest restaurant after all—but as far as anyone else knew, Loki was not Loki but instead a ravishing young woman.  Tivan normally turned heads anyway, but with Loki on his arm, _everyone_ looked at them when they entered.  The maître d’ bowed profusely and escorted them to Tivan’s regular table.  Their server followed right on their heels and took Tivan’s order for their drinks: a cocktail for himself and mead for Loki.

“I must admit, I’m impressed,” Loki said when they were finally alone at their table.  “I had no idea Knowhere had any establishments like this.  Or that they would serve mead.”

Tivan shrugged expansively.  “Knowhere can surprise you.”  He didn’t mention that he’d had the drink specially imported several days before, when he’d first hit upon the idea of taking Loki to dinner.  When their drinks were delivered and Loki expressed his appreciation after sipping his, Tivan decided the great expense had been worth it.

Once they’d ordered their meals, Tivan tried to play the role of host as he usually did for particularly wealthy or important clients.  He couldn’t decide if he should pretend the woman sitting across the table from him wasn’t Loki, or pretend that Loki didn’t look like a woman.  Tivan failed to do either and so remained on edge even as he pointed out various other elites in the restaurant, or the priceless décor he had appointed himself.  Loki spoke little, merely nodding from time to time and sipping at his drink while smirking all the while.  Tivan’s eyes kept falling on his companion’s lips; despite being differently-shaped and coated in a tasteful, nude shade of lipstick, their expression was irritatingly familiar.

 _He’s enjoying himself,_ Tivan sulked once he had drained his glass of all but the ice and run out of things to show off.  He glared down at his remaining ice cubes and rattled them with the crystal stirrer that came in every cocktail the restaurant served.  _Making me uncomfortable—he likes it._

When their food arrived, Tivan was able to relax a little, at least while he was distracted by eating.  Loki ate as daintily as would be expected of his current avatar, and he complimented Tivan on the quality of his meal.

“Again, I had no idea there was anything _tasteful_ out here,” the Asgardian goaded him.

Tivan gave him a dry look.  “My dear boy, I’m assuming you mean _besides_ my museum?”

“You keep calling me that, but I’m hardly a boy,” Loki smirked.

“Oh.  Of course.”  Despite Loki’s current, female appearance, Tivan had begun to think of him as simply Loki again—until that moment, of course, when Loki decided to discomfit him again.  “My apologies, my dear. . . girl.”

Loki laughed, a low sound more melodious than his normal body’s laughter.  “I wasn’t referring to my present gender, but to my age.”

“I see,” Tivan murmured.  That was easier to contend with.  “I still apologize; I certainly don’t mean to offend you.  It’s only that when one gets to be as old as I am, everyone else seems very young.”  When he glanced up at Loki again, the Asgardian was gazing at him with an expression of mild curiosity.

“Is it true, what they say—that you’re immortal?” Loki asked.

“Mostly,” said Tivan.

Loki’s pretty mouth curved again, not quite smirking this time.  “Mostly?”

“Yes.”  Tivan shifted in his chair and looked down at his plate again, but it was empty and offered no help in avoiding what might become a painful topic.  “A. . . way to die does exist for me, I suppose.  But I have no intention of dying.”

“Very few of us ever do.”  Loki’s voice held a note of cautious humor, and when Tivan was forced to look at him again, the Asgardian’s remarkable eyes pinned him.  “My own kind refers to beings with lesser life spans as ‘mortal,’ but we _can_ be killed.  The same is not true for you?”

Tivan stared into the man’s green eyes framed by the woman’s lovely face, remembering very different eyes in the face of a very, _very_ different woman.  He hadn’t remembered in a long time, and the memory hadn’t hurt in even longer.  Yet somehow, dredged up by Loki, it hurt now.

“No,” Tivan muttered, “the same is not true for me.”

Loki’s delicate eyebrows furrowed.  “Taneleer—”

“ _Tivan!_ ”  Both Tivan and Loki started at the shrill cry and turned to see another woman approaching their table.  She appeared middle-aged and humanoid with chartreuse skin and icy-white hair swept up into an elaborate hairstyle—not unattractive, certainly, but no real beauty.  Her fit body was by far her greatest asset, and she apparently knew it judging from the revealing cocktail dress she wore.

Tivan was somewhat acquainted with the interloper, although at the moment, he couldn’t have remembered her name for all the tesseracts in the galaxy.  He smiled graciously and lifted a hand in greeting, which only served to make the woman hurry over even more quickly to stand at Tivan’s side.  He rose and bowed to her before sitting back down again.

“I heard that you were here tonight!” she gushed.  “I haven’t seen you in _ages_!”

“Yes, I’m afraid I’ve been engaged in procuring a rather rare item.  It’s kept me frightfully busy,” Tivan murmured.  He was trying to place just how he knew the woman, while at the same time trying to remember her name.  He gestured to his dining companion, hoping that an introduction would prompt the intruder to give her own name.  “This is—”

“Eris,” Loki interrupted, just as Tivan was about to blurt out his real name.  He cast a sharp look in Tivan’s direction even as he spoke graciously to the woman.

“Oh. . . yes, hello.  Marteena,” the green-skinned interloper introduced herself before dismissing Loki and turning back to Tivan.  “Now Tivan, darling, you haven’t forgotten about _my_ little request, have you?”

“Your. . . request?  No, no, of course not.  How could I?”  Tivan grasped her gloved hand and kissed it while frantically searching his memory.  Had she asked him to find an item for her?  Or find a buyer for something she owned?  _Marteena, Marteena,_ he thought, hoping the name would ring some bell, somewhere.  He looked up at her face: faintly lined but still pretty enough, silvery grey eyes, a bit too much makeup.  What _had_ she wanted?

“I do hope not!”  Marteena was still talking.  “Because when I told my all friends that _the_ Collector promised to take me to the symphony, they. . . .”

Tivan didn’t even hear the rest of what she was saying over the sense of relief he felt: he hadn’t forgotten a business transaction, only yet another socialite trying to score a date with him.  His wealth (and, in his own opinion, his looks) ensured he had no shortage of gold diggers of all genders after him.  He supposed he wouldn’t even mind following through with his promise (a promise he still didn’t quite remember making), as long as she wasn’t expecting to come home with him afterwards.  Tivan hadn’t had a lover in quite some time, and he certainly wasn’t going to end the dry spell with—

His thoughts, and Marteena’s flow of words, were cut off by a cool hand clamping down over his where it rested on the table.  Tivan jumped and looked to see Loki’s fingers gripping his own.  He flicked his startled eyes up to meet Loki’s.

“Taneleer, _darling_ ,” Loki murmured, “you said I’d have you to myself this evening.”

Tivan stared at him, feeling an unnatural heat in his face.  Loki gazed back, feminine lips pursed in something like a pout while those green eyes sparkled.

“Er. . . yes, my apologies. . . dear,” Tivan stammered.  He tugged on his hand, but Loki refused to release it.  Tivan looked back up at Marteena, who now wore an affronted expression on her green face, and apologized, “I’m dreadfully sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me.”

“I see,” Marteena sniffed in a clipped tone.  She gave a disparaging glance to Loki, whom she assumed to be competition for Tivan’s fortune, then turned back to the Collector.  “Do call on me soon, though.”

“Yes, of course,” mumbled Tivan.  He watched her sashay away before glaring at Loki.  “What was _that_ for?”

“Hmph, I thought you would have been grateful to be rid of her,” Loki replied with mock irritation.  “But if you’d prefer her company to mine. . . .”

“Of course not,” Tivan sighed.  “I just didn’t expect you to—”  He broke off when Loki reached across the table and clasped Tivan’s free hand in his as well.

“She’s watching us,” Loki whispered.  He smiled, revealing perfect white teeth between his lips.  Out of the corner of his eye, Tivan could see a blur of bright green at a table some distance away, but he supposed Loki could be telling the truth.

“So?” Tivan tried to scoff.  “That doesn’t mean that. . . .”  His voice faltered when Loki lifted his hand again and laid it against the Collector’s cheek, cupping Tivan’s jaw with his thumb.  “What _are_ you doing?”

“Having you to myself?”  Loki drew his thumb under Tivan’s chin, and the Collector shivered despite how hard he tried not to.

“Loki, please. . . .”

Loki’s green eyes flicked to the side then back.  “She’s _still_ watching.  Are you really going to take her out?”

“I suppose.  To be quite honest, I’d forgotten I told her that, but— _now_ what are you doing?”

Loki had slid his chair to the side of the table and leaned closer to him.  He didn’t answer Tivan’s question, not in words anyway.  Instead, he grasped Tivan’s chin firmly and held it still while he leaned forward and kissed the Collector.

“Mmpgh!” Tivan tried to protest, but upon opening his mouth, he found Loki’s tongue thrust into it, silencing him.  He didn’t feel much like protesting after that, and he let his eyes fall closed with pleasure as Loki’s mouth moved on his and he tasted the mead on Loki’s tongue.  Tivan hadn’t been kissed like that in a long while, and the knowledge that Loki was the one kissing him added to his enjoyment. . . even if Loki _was_ only doing it to embarrass him.

Loki finally broke the kiss and drew back a few inches.  Tivan longed to follow his mouth and kiss him again, but when his eyes fluttered open and he saw the female face so close to his, the Collector was able to pull away and sit back in his chair.

“Well,” he huffed, “if Marteena is still watching after _that_ , I’ll be the subject of quite a bit of gossip before long.”

Loki glanced aside again and laughed softly.  “She’s not watching _anymore_ , but I believe she saw enough.”

“In that case, I do hope you’re through making me uncomfortable,” Tivan muttered.

“Uncomfortable?”  Loki moved his chair back into place and sipped at his drink.  “You seemed to be quite comfortable with me a moment ago.”

“Loki, _please_ ,” Tivan snapped again, embarrassed at having enjoyed himself so much.  Loki finally fell silent on the subject, and when Tivan glanced at him a few moments later, the Asgardian was looking down at his plate as he finished eating.

“To return to business,” Loki murmured after a period of silence, “I was thinking about the information you received regarding Kythica.  I assume you’ve checked all available maps for the planet?”

Tivan nodded.  “Yes, of course.  Naturally, I ran a search on the planet’s name as soon as you told me about it.  Then yesterday, after speaking with the man who gave me its purported location, I searched up and down the axis he indicated.  None of the identified planets lying along it could possibly be Kythica.”

“I suspected as much.”  Loki had finished his food and laid down his eating utensils and was now drinking from a glass of water.  “But something else occurred to me.  Do you have any additional maps within your collection?”

“Certainly,” Tivan declared.  “Only the rarest and most beautiful, of course.”

Loki finally glanced up at him again with a little smile.  “Of course.  And did you check _them_ for Kythica?”

“Not directly, but I’d already added the information they contained to my computer’s database.”

“What about books?”  When Tivan gave him a questioning look, Loki clarified, “I mean do you have any rare books?  On paper?”

“Yes, but they were included my search—they have been digitized.”

“Everything in them,” Loki persisted, “or only the text?”

Tivan sighed, beginning to get exasperated with the Asgardian’s questioning.  “Any illustrations were scanned in when the text was digitized.  But I don’t see what that has to do with. . . .”  He trailed off, and his eyes widened as he stared at Loki.  The Asgardian’s smile grew slightly.

“You were thinking of maps in old books. . . maps whose data might not have been imported into my computer system,” Tivan murmured.

“Exactly.”  Loki and Tivan looked at one another in silence for a moment, Loki’s eyes sparkling and Tivan’s wide.  Finally Loki went on, “Will you allow me to search through those books of yours?”

“Of course, my dear.”  Tivan used the epithet sincerely, without thinking, in his excitement.  “And I’ll help you.  To think that there could be some undiscovered information within my collection. . . the location of an unknown world!”  His eyes shifted to his empty glass as he drifted into thought.  “Fortunately, most of my library is here in Knowhere—I do have an entire planet devoted to the storage of my larger pieces, but my most treasured possessions reside in my museum, or in my home.”

“Your home?” Loki prompted.

“Oh, yes—I live above the museum, when I stay here in Knowhere, that is.”  Tivan lifted his eyes back to Loki’s.  “Loki, would you honor me by staying the night in my home?  We can peruse my library tomorrow, but I’m sure you would prefer to rest first.  And I would hate to entrust you to another’s care for the night.”

“You’re certain I wouldn’t be a burden?” Loki smiled as he asked.  “Do you have guest quarters?”

“You would not be a burden in the least,” Tivan assured him; then Loki’s second question sunk in.  “And—and _certainly_ I have guest quarters.  I would not ask you to stay otherwise.”  He felt his face grow warmer at the implication he might have lodged Loki in his own bed.

“Then yes, I’ll stay with you.”  Loki glanced at their empty dishes.  “Shall we go now?  We seem to be finished here.”

“Yes, let’s go.”  Tivan signaled for their server to come take their dishes; then he stood and offered Loki his arm.  Loki took it, tucking one long-fingered, feminine hand underneath and resting the other on top. 

“Do you always leave restaurants without paying?” Loki inquired on their way out.

“Just the ones I own.”  Tivan had the pleasure of seeing Loki look truly startled for a moment.

As they passed the table where Marteena sat with two other ladies, Tivan noticed her giving Loki an icy stare.  Although he had mentioned gossip earlier, only now did Tivan really dwell on what rumors might be started that evening.  He certainly didn’t mind the attention, but he _did_ worry that people might start questioning him about the identity of his beautiful companion.  What in the heavens would he tell them. . . especially when the so-called “Eris” never turned up again?  That it had just been a fling with a stunning woman so into him, she’d kiss him like _that_ in the middle of a high-class restaurant?

 _Like I’d let someone like that get away, if “she” were anyone but Loki,_ Tivan thought with a touch of regret.

Loki maintained his disguise until they had returned to Tivan’s museum.  Once safely inside, he rested a hand on his curvaceous hip and looked at the Collector.

“Would you prefer I stay like this for the rest of the evening?”

“No, please,” Tivan quickly assured him.  “There’s no need.  We’re quite alone and won’t be disturbed.”

“Oh.  I see.”  Tivan saw one last hint of a smile on the female face before the shimmering green light obscured it; an instant later, he was left looking at the usual, male Loki.

“Ahh,” Loki sighed, straightening his clothing.  “It _can_ be tiresome to maintain an illusion for so long.  I trust you appreciated it, however.”

Tivan shrugged.  “It was aesthetically pleasing, but rather disconcerting.  If you hadn’t the need to conceal your identity, I would have preferred you like this.”

“Oh?”  Loki cocked his head to one side and studied him.  “You would prefer your admirers to see you taking another man out to dinner, instead?  Would you have let me kiss you in that case?”  The open, innocent look on his face make Tivan all the more aware that Loki was mocking him.

“I did not _let_ you kiss me,” the Collector retorted.  “You left me little choice in the matter.  And as for being observed, why would the gender of my companion make a difference?  Perhaps on Asgard, the tradition is for a man’s consort to be female, but things are different in other parts of the galaxy.  I can spend my time with whomever I wish.”

Loki’s brow furrowed, but then the furrows smoothed and he resumed his usual half-smirk.  “Of course.  And have you had _many_ male. . . consorts, Taneleer?”

Tivan was starting to experience serious regret over inviting Loki to be his guest for the night.

“You’re being very rude to me again,” he informed the Asgardian.

“My apologies.”  Loki didn’t _sound_ very sorry, but he did bow his head in contrition.  “I know your personal life shouldn’t be any of my concern.  It’s just that you’re so very _interesting_.  I’ve wondered how an immortal—or _mostly_ immortal—being fills his time.”

“With collecting,” Tivan returned coolly.  “Now come, we can’t stand around in the museum all night.  I’ll show you to the guest quarters and leave you to rest.”

Loki followed him—thankfully in silence—up to the suite of rooms atop the museum.  Tivan took the Asgardian to the spacious guest bedroom and adjoining bath, then busied himself with pointing out various features to his visitor.

“I know you didn’t come prepared to stay,” Tivan said as he indicated a vast closet, “but you should find something to fit you in here if you wish to change your clothing.  If you need anything, press that button over there—no, wait, this one here.  I keep forgetting that I’m without an assistant at the moment, so you’ll need to summon me, instead.”

“You?”  Loki raised an eyebrow.  “You don’t have any servants at all?”

“Well, not at night,” Tivan admitted.  “I. . . suppose I’d come to rely on my previous assistant rather heavily.  I was used to waking her if I needed anything during the evening hours, so I didn’t employ anyone else at night.”  He paused, thinking of how he hadn’t realized just _how_ heavily he’d relied on Carina until she was gone.

“And during the day?” Loki cut into Tivan’s thoughts.

“Oh.  Well, I have a few creatures hired to clean and cook for me, but they leave in the evenings.  I do most everything else myself now.”  Tivan returned to the room’s doorway, where Loki still stood, as he murmured, “It’s difficult to trust anyone, these days.”

“Yes,” Loki observed, “it is.”

Tivan looked at him and wondered just how much trust was too much.  Should he really be allowing Loki access to his library, even supervised?  For that matter, should he be allowing Loki into his home at all?  Of course, all of the Collector’s possessions were secure; Loki wouldn’t be able to enter the showroom or any other collection rooms without Tivan to grant him access, thanks to Tivan’s computerized security system.  But he wasn’t really worried about Loki stealing some object from him.  No, what concerned Tivan was letting Loki’s impressive intellect anywhere near the information contained in the Collector’s precious library. . . and letting Loki himself stay this close to Tivan, where it would be all the easier to manipulate him.

 _He’s not even **asking** me to do all these things for him. . . I’m **offering**_ , Tivan marveled, gazing into those singular green eyes.  _One would think I’m in love with him!_

“Are you bidding me good night?” Loki finally asked when Tivan didn’t speak.

“Yes,” the Collector said, then wavered.  “Unless. . . you’d care for another drink.”

“Mead?”

Tivan nodded.  “Or something else, if you prefer.  I collect a wide variety of alcohols—although I find myself having to replace some of the exhibits fairly often,” he added with a little smile.

Loki answered his smile and said, “If you don’t mind replacing the mead, then I’ll join you.”

Tivan took him out onto a balcony leading off from the large, open parlor at the center of his suite.  The Collector sipped another cocktail and eyed Loki’s elegant profile as the Asgardian gazed out at the nebulae visible far beyond Knowhere, cupping his own glass of mead in his hands.

“Tell me, Taneleer,” Loki murmured, “do you ever desire something you can’t collect?”

 _Oh yes,_ Tivan thought.

“Which nebula is it you’re coveting?” he teased aloud.

Loki smiled and cast him a sideways glance before looking back up at the dark sky.  “I was not specifically referring to celestial bodies.  But you said that you fill your time by collecting things, and I wondered what you do when you come across something you can’t have.”

“Sometimes, I give up,” Tivan admitted, thinking first of the Orb but then staring again at the face of the man beside him.

“Earlier, you said you cannot be killed.  So what if you desire death?  What then?”

Tivan’s hand shook so hard, the ice in his glass rattled, and he had to set his drink down on the railing in front of him.

“Why do you ask _that_?” he put to Loki, at the same time wondering, _How much does he know about me?_

“Curiosity.”  Loki glanced at him again, but then, noticing the expression on Tivan’s face, turned to face him full on.  “Taneleer?  What is it?”

Tivan tore his eyes from Loki’s gaze and gripped the railing, bending forward to rest his weight on it.  Instead of looking up at the sky, he looked downward at the tortured organic landscape of Knowhere beneath them.  “If I desired to die, I could do so.  Is that what you wanted to know?  If I could kill myself?”

For once, Loki seemed to have trouble forming words.  “I. . . yes, but. . . I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“And by putting it poetically, you thought the question would be less upsetting?” Tivan muttered.  “‘Desiring death’ instead of ‘hating life’?  Instead of ‘suicide’ or ‘killing yourself’?”

Loki set down his own glass and drew a slow breath.  “Tivan, I am sorry.  Truly, I didn’t mean to offend you.  I didn’t know the subject would be so sensitive to you.”

Stung by Loki’s formal use of his last name, as much as he didn’t want to be, Tivan turned his head to look up at the Asgardian again.  “Truly?  You didn’t know?”

Loki shook his head from side to side slowly, green eyes wide but piercing.  “I thought that with your collecting—with an infinite universe of lifeforms and objects. . . .”  He didn’t finish that thought, but instead expressed another.  “You said yourself, you have no intention of dying.”

Tivan let his eyes fall closed, and he exhaled, as if letting out the breath Loki had drawn in.

“Not me, Loki,” he said.  He let out a shaky, humorless laugh and turned his head away again before opening his eyes.  “No, I’m not suicidal.”

“What is it, then?  Why did I so upset you?”

Tivan lifted one hand from the railing to wave it dismissively in Loki’s direction, then lowered it once more.  “I overreacted.  Let it go.  It’s nothing.”

Loki was quiet a moment before he said, “It’s something, I think,” and laid his hand atop Tivan’s.  The Collector’s gaze fell there, taking in the smooth, fine-boned hand resting on his larger, more wrinkled one, Loki’s fingers between Tivan’s, plain nails between painted.

“My wife,” Tivan said.

Loki’s fingers twitched.  “Your. . . wife.  I did not know—you’re married?”

“I was.  At one time, long ago.”  Tivan kept his eyes on their hands as he spoke.  “We were immortal—or so I thought, until she. . . desired death, you would say.  Until she tired of living.  Immortality was too tedious for her, too vast.  And so she died.  She _chose_ to die.  That is when I began my collection—I alleviated the tedium and filled my time with that, with the purpose of preserving the treasures of the galaxy.”  Tivan wanted to stop there, but he found his lips still forming words, the things he had thought so often back then and so infrequently now, until Loki rekindled the memory of them.  “She died because she found nothing worth living for.  Not even our love. . . not even me.  I wasn’t enough to make her want to live.”

Loki said nothing.

After a moment of silence, Tivan drew his hand out from beneath the other man’s and picked up his glass.  He felt as if _he_ should be the one apologizing, for dumping his memories on Loki if not for failing to uphold his end of the euphemistic banter they had employed.  Yet he didn’t know _how_ to apologize for something like that, and he retreated to familiar, excessive formality.

“I should leave you to rest,” Tivan muttered, turning to go back inside.  “I will come for you in the morning when breakfast is ready.”

He was halfway back into his parlor before Loki spoke.

“Tivan, do you want me to go?”

Tivan stopped and looked back at him.  “What?”

“Do you want me to go back to Asgard?”  Loki’s eyes looked very wide and very dark in his pale face, lit obliquely by the light coming from inside Tivan’s home.

“No. . . .”  Tivan’s stomach clenched at the thought of being left alone—so _utterly_ alone with even Carina gone now.  Of course, Loki would leave the next day, once he got the information he was seeking, but by then, maybe Tivan’s memory would have settled once more.  Maybe he would have forgotten again.

 _You’d better forget,_ he told himself, _and you’d better not think he’s going to help you do it.  You weren’t enough for her, so you won’t **ever** be enough for **him**._

“Are you sure?” Loki was saying as Tivan pushed the thoughts away.  “I hurt you.  If you want me to leave—”

“Please,” Tivan interrupted him.  “Don’t go.  I want you to stay.”

Loki studied him then nodded.  “And are you bidding me good night _now_?”

“Yes.  I think I’d better.”

“Then I’ll do the same.”  Loki smiled at him, although the smile appeared strained.  “Good night, Tivan.  And—I’m sorry.”  He spoke those last words impulsively.

“I’ll forgive you,” Tivan murmured, “if you’ll go back to calling me by my first name.  Very few do anymore.”

Loki’s smile grew more natural.  “All right.”  His voice fell to a murmur that echoed down Tivan’s spine.  “Taneleer.”

“Good night, Loki,” the Collector said, and he went to his bedroom and shut himself in before he could be further tempted to stay.

\--

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Tivan felt more like himself the next morning, in part because of the sleeping pills he’d taken to ensure he didn’t lie awake for most of the night.  After dressing for the day, he went to the guest suite to collect Loki for breakfast.

“Yes, come in,” Loki called over the suite’s intercom when Tivan buzzed it for permission to enter.  Tivan found his guest dressed and lounging in a chair, where he had been reading one of books Tivan had left scattered about the suite for decoration. 

As Tivan bowed to him, Loki glanced up and lifted his eyebrows as he asked, “Do you always sleep so late?  I was getting bored.”

“It isn’t late,” Tivan retorted.  “It’s still morning!  Come, breakfast is waiting for us.”

“You know, you don’t have to perform that elaborate bow every time you see me, either,” Loki commented as he stood up.   Tivan looked over the attire Loki had chosen to wear from the selection in his closet: another tunic, not green but claret this time, with pants less form-fitting than before.  _What a pity,_ Tivan thought with a hint of wryness.  However, the elaborate gold trim on the tunic’s square color suited Loki well.

“You look quite handsome in my clothing,” Tivan said as he stepped aside to let Loki pass first through the sliding door to his room.

“ _Your_ clothing?”  Loki’s mouth curved in his familiar smirk, although he didn’t look directly at Tivan.  “I assumed this ensemble was hardly flashy enough for your tastes.  And anyway, you’re broader-shouldered than I, so would it fit you?”

Tivan decided to give Loki the benefit of the doubt and assume he wasn’t _trying_ to be rude.  “Oh, I’ve never worn it,” he explained while he led the Asgardian down a wide, carpeted flight of stairs to the lower level of his residence.  “I meant that the tunic is part of my collection.  Although it has no cultural significance—I acquired it some years ago simply because I liked it—so I chose not to put it on display.  But you’re the first guest who’s worn it.”  Tivan ushered Loki into his small dining room, which contained an ornate square table surrounded by four chairs.

“I see.”  Loki sat down, glancing first at the place setting on the table before him, then down at his shirt.  “Normally, I wouldn’t wear this color.”

“You should.  It’s quite flattering on you.”  Tivan sat across from him and pressed a button underneath the table to summon his servants with their breakfast.  As the two creatures—sapient but rather slow-moving walrus-like beings—brought the food, Tivan allowed himself a moment to gaze at his visitor.  The color really _did_ suit Loki, as it made his skin tone appear warmer than usual and contrasted with the green of his eyes.  His straight black hair hung down without a strand out of place, and Tivan idly wondered if it felt as silky as it looked.  Loki had gone back to examining his cutlery, turning the handle of the sharp knife between two long fingers, but under Tivan’s scrutiny, he raised his eyes.  They met Tivan’s, and Loki smirked again.

“The handles of our silverware are mother-of-pearl,” Tivan commented, “from an ocean planet called Moana.”  The walruses were taking their sweet time serving the food, so Tivan kept talking, though he had to speak a little louder to be heard over the clatter of their utensils and dishes.  “Moana is home to what’s called the oyster cult, followers of an mollusk-like entity they believe to be a goddess.”

“Oh?”  Loki chuckled.  “An oyster goddess, really?”

“Yes—and I do not judge the religions of the cultures I study.  After all,” Tivan pointed out with a smirk of his own, “some Terrans once worshiped _you_ as a god, I understand.  There’s no accounting for some planets’ tastes.”  Loki ceded the point with a nod, although he wasn’t smiling anymore, and Tivan continued.  “Anyhow, this cult raises beds of the finest oysters in the galaxy, to honor their goddess.  Their oysters produce the most beautiful pearls and nacre you’ll ever find, although of course such products can be acquired only once the oysters die naturally; the cult would never permit live harvesting.  As a result, items made from these oysters are outrageously expensive.”

The servants had finished setting out their meal and withdrawn by the time Tivan got done with his spiel, and Loki had begun to eat without waiting for him to stop talking.  When Tivan finally started eating his own breakfast, Loki glanced up.

“I do hope you won’t tell me the history of every book in your library, too,” he commented, “or we may never get through them all.”

“If I’m boring you, you need only say so,” Tivan retorted.

“Oh, you aren’t boring me at all,” returned Loki.  His mouth drew up in what was almost one of his usual smirks, but not quite.  “I find it endearing how hard you try to impress me.”

Tivan spluttered in indignation.  “I am _not_ trying to impress you!  I was merely making conversation.”  He scowled and returned to his breakfast.

Loki just laughed.  “Well, be that as it may, I am impressed, so you can stop. . . not trying.”  Tivan wasn’t sure whether he should be flattered or further offended as they finished their meal.

As his servants cleared the table, Tivan showed Loki to his library.  It occupied the second story of his building, directly above the showroom, and was not extensive compared to other parts of his collection.

“I haven’t really concentrated on collecting physical copies of books,” Tivan explained to his guest as they stood in the middle of a forest of bookcases.   “Since I am foremost interested in preservation, and almost every text in the galaxy is available digitally. . . well, my resources are usually better spent on other items.”

“Hmm.”  Loki looked at shelf upon shelf of books, then back at Tivan.  “If this is ‘not concentrating,’ I would hate to see what happens when you get _obsessed_.  We won’t have to look through all of these, will we?”

Although he was still trying to be annoyed with Loki, Tivan found himself smiling anyway at the overwhelmed expression on the Asgardian’s face.  “No, of course not.  I only have a few books which might have galactic maps. . . over. . . _here,_ ” he finished as he found the shelf of books in question, in one corner next to an enormous, framed tapestry hanging on the wall.  As he made his way over to Tivan, Loki paused to look up at it.

“Is that a map as well?” he asked.

“Oh. . . yes.”  Tivan stepped away from the bookcase to Loki’s side and regarded the tapestry with him.  It depicted the galaxy in almost photo-realistic detail.  Kythica, of course, was not represented, but many of the galaxy’s larger known objects had been meticulously stitched in.  Delicate silver threads traced the quadrant coordinate system through the image, not distracting from it but embellishing it instead.

“It’s beautiful,” Loki murmured.  “Tapestry is a prized technique on Asgard, but even we are letting it decline to a lost art.  This must be quite old. . . although it isn’t from Asgard.”

“No,” Tivan agreed.  “I can’t claim to know very much about your world’s tapestries, but the aesthetic hardly fits.  I haven’t been able to discover the weaver who made it, or even its culture or planet of origin, but I’ve had it for many—well, for a long time.  It is, as you say, quite old.  You’ll notice some more recently-discovered objects are not represented. . . and some that _are_ depicted went nova or dissolved ages ago.  Still, it’s one of my favorite pieces, perhaps because its lineage remains a mystery to me.”  He broke off, realizing he was rambling again, and glanced at Loki.  “My apologies if you still feel I’m trying to impress you.”

“No. . . this time, I asked you about it.”  Loki turned his head to Tivan long enough to cast a faint smile in his direction; then the Asgardian looked up at the textile map again.  “My mother. . . she enjoyed weaving.  I used to watch her when I was young—my brother thought it was terribly boring.”  Tivan, looking not at the tapestry but at Loki’s face, saw his smile grow and become fonder with the memory.  “He would sit there for a few minutes and then start fidgeting, until she would finally tell him to go.  Then he would run off to—I don’t know, fight someone or break something, but I could sit for hours and watch.  Sometimes, she would tell me stories while she worked, the history behind the scene she had chosen to depict, or maybe just tales she made up on the spot inspired by it.”

Loki stopped speaking and looked at Tivan once more.  His smile was gone, and his vivid eyes darted over the Collector’s face.  For the first time in their acquaintanceship, Tivan saw a vulnerability, a sort of openness, in Loki’s eyes.  Simultaneously, they were wary, as if Loki was ready to shut Tivan out and return to his usual cynicism at the slightest hint of mockery.  After a moment, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw on Tivan’s face, Loki went on.

“She brought those stories to life.  With her words, with her needle. . . sometimes with her magic.  She taught me the words and the magic, but alas—I lack the patience for weaving.”  He smiled again, and so did Tivan.

“I imagine so,” the Collector murmured.  They looked at one another until their smiles faded, Loki’s eyes now fixed on Tivan’s, no longer searching.

“She’s gone,” Loki said.  “Dead.”

“I am sorry.”

Loki kept their gazes locked for another moment; then he said, “You truly are, aren’t you?”  He turned away from Tivan and went to the books in the corner.  “Which ones are we searching?”

Tivan let him change the subject.  “These,” he answered, joining Loki at the bookcase and indicating the correct shelf.  “The illustration plates are generally on slicker paper than the rest of the pages, so they should be easy to pick out.  All these books are either gazetteers or histories of galactic exploration.  I know none mentions Kythica by name, but as you said, the maps may be of some use.”

Loki looked at the shelf, which held about twenty volumes.  “I shall start at one end, and you at the other, I suppose?”

“And meet in the middle?  Agreed.”

As it happened, Loki reached the middle of the shelf long before Tivan did.  The Collector kept getting distracted by the illustrations, and sometimes the text, of the books he searched; he hadn’t perused that section of his library—or, really, _any_ of his physical books—in a long time, and he’d forgotten how much pleasure he got simply from browsing.  He picked up his pace each time Loki complained, but then Tivan would find something else to claim his attention.  Eventually, Loki gave up on him and continued his own, more efficient search alone.

Tivan was admiring an intricate illustration depicting the birth of a black hole when he heard Loki draw in his breath.  The Collector looked up to see the Asgardian staring down at a slender volume open to a map spanning two pages.

“Have you found something?” Tivan asked.  Loki didn’t speak but instead turned the book toward Tivan and pointed.  The tip of his slender finger rested beside a minute dot on the map. . . a dot marking a point on the 339-degree axis, in the galaxy’s second quadrant.  Tivan flicked his eyes up to meet Loki’s, then back to the dot.

“Do you think. . . ?” Loki murmured, without finishing the thought.

Tivan drew the tip of his tongue over his lips.  “I don’t know,” he said, even though he _did_ , or at least he _thought_ so.  The dot was in the general location indicated by his inebriated contact, although it was even farther out from the galaxy center than Tivan had suspected.  _If I had just flown out along that axis, searching, I would have turned back long before I reached it,_ he realized.

“I have some doubts,” Loki said after they’d looked at the map in silence.  “This spot is unlabeled—one of _many_ unlabeled objects.”  He gestured to the rest of the map with his hand.  “Although I recognize some of these worlds, even without the labels.  They’ve been identified since this was drawn, so it must be quite ancient.”

“What book is this, anyhow?”  Tivan lifted the cover a bit and tilted his head to peer at it.  “Oh. . . a biography?  Why in the heavens did I shelve it here?”

“It’s the biography of a _pirate_ ,” Loki pointed out.  When Tivan looked up at him, the Asgardian’s lips curved in another smirk.  “One Captain Nathaniel Flint, said to have looted a thousand worlds.  And _this_ —”  He tapped the map with his fingertip.  “—supposedly shows all one-thousand.  Perhaps you were thinking of retracing Flint’s path to see if he left any treasures behind.”

Tivan laughed despite being the target of Loki’s teasing.  “Perhaps I was.  I don’t recall.  If this spot does represent Kythica, I wonder if Captain Flint ‘looted’ a tesseract.”  He drew in a breath and exhaled it, still eyeing the unlabeled dot by Loki’s fingertip.  “It’s hardly reliable information—Flint himself is only a legend.  No one has even proven that he really existed.  If we were to travel all that way, it would likely be a grand waste of time and resources, all for nothing.”

“You’re probably right,” Loki admitted.  “We really shouldn’t.”  Both men looked up, and their eyes met over the book.  The corner of Loki’s pretty mouth twitched.  “. . . But we’re going to, aren’t we?”

Tivan grinned.  “Of _course_ we are.  An uncharted world?  A world potentially full of _tesseracts_?  Of _course_ we’re going, my dear boy!”

“So you’ve changed your mind about only providing me with information, not transportation?” Loki goaded him.

“On one condition.”  Tivan deftly lifted the book from Loki’s hand and tucked it under his own arm.  “One of the tesseracts we obtain goes into my collection.”

“Just one?  Fair enough,” Loki shrugged, although his intense gaze never left the book.  “To be honest, I’m surprised you’ve never tried to. . . collect _my_ tesseract.  Especially since Sif and Volstagg _gave_ you the Aether.”  His eyes finally drifted up to meet Tivan’s, who relished the envy that glittered there.

“Believe me, my dear, I would gladly take your tesseract into my safekeeping,” Tivan told him, “if you ever feel it is in danger on Asgard.  At one time, yes, I had hoped to collect all six Infinity Stones, but since then, I’ve, ah. . . realized that isn’t likely to happen any time soon.  I know that only one tesseract contains the Space Stone, but any of its— _her_ brethren would be a welcome addition to my collection as well.”

“Well, if you’ve given up on the Infinity Stones, does it not bother you to have a partial set?  I’ve always imagined you to be a bit obsessive-compulsive about completeness.  Is the Aether not a reminder of your failure?”  Loki’s eyes remained fixed on Tivan’s, and as beautiful as they were, Tivan still saw that monstrous envy.  Yes, it was flattering, but it was starting to trouble him, too.  _I’ve let my guard down around Loki far too much already,_ Tivan realized, _and I cannot trust him.  I **cannot**._

When Tivan replied, he spoke with the feigned gregariousness he’d stopped using with the Asgardian, right around the time Loki had kissed him.  “Yes, I do prefer to complete my sets—but I only said that I shan’t obtain the other Infinity Stones _soon_.  Since my lifespan is as infinite is theirs, I trust our paths will cross again someday.  Besides. . . .”  He tore his eyes from Loki’s, no longer able to stand the resentment he saw in the other man’s gaze, and drifted toward the library’s doors with the biography of Flint.  “I couldn’t break my promise to your countrymen, that I would protect the Aether.  If I gave it back to you, it would dwell on Asgard with the tesseract—and that’s precisely what your compatriots wished to avoid, is it not?”

Loki had followed him to the doors but remained just inside the library when Tivan stepped out.  “You know they did not do what I would have wished,” he muttered.  His normally playful tone was gone, his voice dropped to nearly a growl.  “There should be _three_ Infinity Stones on Asgard, not just _one_.”

“Well, then.  If you didn’t wish me to have the Aether, why didn’t you stop them?”  Tivan cocked his head as he looked back at his guest.  “You can’t tell me that you weren’t strong enough to do so—although I must say that the Lady Sif looked every bit as deadly as she is beautiful.”  The Collector was gratified by the bitter scowl his implication brought to Loki’s face.  He didn’t _want_ Loki to resent him—but if the Asgardian were bound to do so, then an angry Loki was safer than a brooding, calculating one.

“Of course I could have stopped them!” Loki spat.  “Except I am supposed to be _dead_ —as you _should_ have remembered, if your brain weren’t so fixated on your trinkets!  Revealing myself to Volstagg and Sif wasn’t worth it, not even for the Aether.”

Tivan’s mind—far from being “fixated on his trinkets,” at least not _all_ of the time—had already gone back to something else Loki had said.  “And you mentioned _three_ Infinity Stones?  You don’t mean to tell me that you lost _three_?”

“No!” Loki retorted.  “I got the tesseract _back_ , after all!”

Tivan had to strain to hold back a smirk of his own.  “So you lost _two_.  The Aether and. . . ?”

Loki glowered at him but finally admitted, “The Mind Stone.  On Earth—Terra.”  Tivan’s gloating over that fact was short-lived, for Loki went on, “But at least I lost it in _battle_ —not how _you_ let the Orb slip through your gaudily-painted fingers!”

“ _What?_ ”  Tivan felt his own mouth fall open, and he couldn’t summon the strength to close it.  “You— _know_ about that?”

“Of course I know about it!”  Loki threw one fine-boned hand in the air carelessly.  “I would think you of all people would understand how fast word can travel across the galaxy.  I know all about how you let your little assistant snatch it right out from under you—and then when she couldn’t control it, the band of fools who brought it to you waltzed right back out again with it!”

Tivan stared at him.  “But you—you asked me—like you didn’t know!”  In the mixture of anger and humiliation he felt, the Collector was unable to form a complete sentence, and he eventually fell silent and only brought his hand to his face, touching the scar left from the wound Loki himself had touched mere weeks ago.

They stood there fuming at one another until Loki muttered, “I was trying not to be rude.  And I wasn’t _sure_ that was how you’d been hurt—only how your showroom got _destroyed_.”

“You utterly fail at not being rude,” Tivan snapped, letting his hand drop back to his side.  “Feigning concern for me is—is the _height_ of rudeness!”

“I _was_ concerned!” Loki shot back; then he blinked, as if he had surprised himself.  “Anyhow,” he went on in a more moderated tone, “if you’re immortal, how can you be injured?”

“Immortal doesn’t mean _invulnerable_ ,” Tivan informed him.  He clenched his fingers into fists at his sides—inadvertently hiding the “gaudily-painted” nails, he supposed—and tried to calm the frustration Loki had raised in him.  But it wasn’t just frustration—it hurt too, the memory of Carina closing her hand over the Orb, screaming that Tivan couldn’t control her anymore.  She had been right about that, of course—even more so once her rebellion had killed her.

 _She hated me,_ Tivan thought.  _She hated me so much—I think she would have done it even if she had **known** it would lead to her death._   That knowledge was what hurt, the fact that he could inspire such a powerful hatred in someone so. . . inconsequential.  Someone who didn’t resent him for any item he possessed, for his power or his immortality. . . someone who resented him just because, when one came right down to it, Taneleer Tivan was not a nice person.

Although he hadn’t exactly loved Carina—hadn’t been attracted to her, most certainly hadn’t been _in_ love with her—Tivan had been closer to no other woman, save his wife.  And like the death of his wife, Carina’s demise had shown him something horrible about himself.  _Last night, Loki made me remember that I’m not worth living for.  And now, he’s made me realize that getting away from me is worth **dying** for._

“Taneleer?”  Loki was still watching him, but only with his usual cautious alertness; the bitterness in his eyes had faded, or else he had concealed it.

“Come out of there,” Tivan replied, forcing away his thoughts and the painful emotions they raised in him.  “I’ll have to go out to make the arrangements for our transportation to seek this planet, and I don’t trust you alone in my library.”

“Hmm.  That’s probably wise of you.”  The deliberate lightness had returned in Loki’s tone, and he followed Tivan out of the library.  “Are you going to lock me in my room?  You probably should.”

“If you insist,” said Tivan, although he had already planned on it.

“Would you mind if I took something to read?”  Loki gestured back toward the library shelves.  “The books in my room are rather boring.”

“Of course, they were only intended for decoration.”  Tivan wasn’t enthused about Loki choosing just anything from his library, yet he wasn’t sure what the Asgardian would find interesting.  But then he hit on the perfect idea, and he caught himself smiling again.  “Ah, I know just the thing.  One moment.”

Tivan strode back into the library and plucked a particular volume from a shelf; then he exited and allowed the doors to slide closed behind him.  “Here you are.”  He held the book out to Loki, who took it with a curious glance at its leather-bound cover.

“What is it?”

“A book on Terran mythology—specifically that of the Norse people.  The ones who worshipped _you_.”  Tivan’s smile grew when he saw Loki’s eyes light up until they fairly glowed.  “Is that satisfactory?”

“Quite.”  Loki’s fingers tightened over the book’s cover, and he held it to his chest as he followed Tivan to the lift that took them back to the guest suite.

“Do you need anything else before I go?” Tivan asked his guest, although he rather felt he was treating Loki like a prisoner.  _That’s safer than trusting him,_ the Collector told himself.

“No.  This will be sufficient.”  Loki sat in the chair he’d been in when Tivan greeted him that morning; then he glanced up at the Collector.  “How long will you be gone?”

“Not long,” Tivan assured him.  “As you surmised yesterday, I have contacts who can get me a ship and pilot quickly, so—”

“No pilot,” interrupted Loki.  “I’ll fly us.”

“Really.”  Tivan’s doubts must have shown on his face, for Loki sighed.

“Yes, _really_.  And we don’t want some third party to know about Kythica, now do we?”

“I suppose not.  All right.  I’ll arrange for a ship only.”  Tivan started for the door, then paused to look back at Loki.  “And now you have proof that I’m immortal—if _weren’t_ , I would never put my life in your hands like this.  Even for a tesseract.”

Loki only smiled as he opened his book and leaned back in his chair, crossing his long legs.  “Go get our ship, Taneleer.  I don’t enjoy waiting.”

\--

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

When Tivan returned a couple hours later, he found Loki in a sulky mood.  The Asgardian was still in the chair, now curled up with his legs tucked under him.

“The myths these people concocted about me—they’re ridiculous!” Loki declared as soon as Tivan rejoined him, before the Collector could say a word about the ship he had engaged.  “And the way I look in these illustrations!”  He made a noise full of disgust and frustration.

Tivan chuckled.  “I take it you discovered the story about you taking the form of a mare and birthing a foal.”  Loki cast a look up at him—perhaps the first time Tivan had seen an embarrassed expression on his face.

“You’ve. . . read this?”

“Oh yes,” Tivan purred.  “After I first made your acquaintance, I read all about you.  That horse myth was almost as amusing as the one where your brother dressed up as a bride, and you pretended to be his maid.”

A delicate blush crept over Loki’s cheekbones.  “That. . . that really happened.  His hammer, Mjornil, was stolen, and we had to disguise ourselves to get it back.”

“Oh?”  Tivan leaned against the bedpost and smirked down at his guest.  “Why didn’t you simply use your tricks to cast an illusion over yourselves?”

“We couldn’t risk having an illusion detected!” Loki retorted.  “And anyhow, the deception worked. I just. . . don’t know how these Terrans found out about it.”

“I’m sure you made quite an alluring maiden,” Tivan teased him, although he _was_ rather intrigued by the idea.

Loki closed the book and laid it on the bedside table as he replied loftily, “Thor as a bride was _twice_ as alluring.”  He unfolded himself from his chair and stood before he went on, “Did you procure a ship?”

“Yes,” Tivan replied, “but it won’t be available until the morning.  We’ll have to wait.”

“Hmph.”  Loki scowled and turned to look at himself in the mirror suspended over a large dresser against one wall of the guest room.  “I told you, I don’t like to wait.  You, _the Collector_ , don’t have the clout needed to get a ship when you need one?”

Tivan sighed, not wanting to get drawn into yet another argument.  “Knowhere is not especially large, and only so many crafts capable of long voyages are kept here.  Besides, our ship will have to be stocked with fuel and supplies—I assumed you wouldn’t want to attend to those tasks yourself.”

“No,” Loki admitted.  “I suppose I can stand to wait a little while longer.  It _will_ be ready tomorrow, though?”

“Yes, first thing.  I’ll even get up early so we can get started sooner,” Tivan said wryly.  Loki finally cast a wan smile over his shoulder, in Tivan’s direction.

“All right.  Thank you for your assistance, Taneleer.  I would never have even heard of this planet without your help, and I haven’t really shown you much gratitude.”

“Perhaps you haven’t, but as you are my client and my guest, the burden is upon me to provide for you,” Tivan assured him.  “You can express your gratitude once you have the tesseracts you want.”

Loki had been looking into the mirror again, but he turned now to face Tivan as he murmured, “Yes. . . I am your client and guest.  But. . . is that all I am to you?”  His expression was thoughtful but otherwise unreadable, and Tivan had no idea what sort of answer Loki wanted.  His heart thudded in a chest that felt hollow as he answered.

“No, that isn’t _all_.  I would be honored to call you my friend, Loki—if I may mean it truly, not just as a pretense.”

Loki’s vivid eyes studied him a moment before the Asgardian said, “Yes, I believe we’re friends.  You don’t have many, do you?”

“No,” Tivan admitted.

“But then, neither do I.”  Loki smiled suddenly, brilliantly.  “So I guess we _both_ should be honored.”

Tivan could not help but smile back.  “I guess so.”  He paused in thought before continuing, “We’ll have to pass another evening before we can depart for Kythica.  Would you like to go to the symphony with me?  I’ve been thinking of it since Marteena brought it up, and you would be much better company than she.”

Loki’s eyes lit up even brighter than usual, and he seemed truly delighted when he replied, “Of course, I would love to.  Knowhere really has a symphony?”

“Oh, it isn’t here on Knowhere,” Tivan explained, “but on a nearby dwarf planet called Monori.  Quite an interesting place in several respects.  Shuttlecraft run between Knowhere and Monori frequently, so we’ll have no trouble getting there and back.”

“Hmm, all right.  I suppose I’ll need to disguise myself again.”  Loki narrowed his eyes at Tivan.  “But _not_ as my brother’s maiden.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest it,” Tivan smirked.  “In fact, if it’s all the same to you, I prefer you as a man.”

“ _Really_.”  Loki gave him a curious look.  “All right.  Are we leaving now?”

“Oh, well.  I’m afraid it will take me a bit longer than you to dress—I can’t just conjure up some suitable attire,” Tivan pointed out.

“Suitable attire?” Loki asked, arching his eyebrow.  “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing now?”

Tivan looked down at his clothing; he was dressed in one of his ordinary suits—or, at least, it was ordinary for Taneleer Tivan, since few other beings appreciated ermine as much as he did.  “It isn’t nearly nice enough for the _symphony_.  Far too plain.”  Glancing at his cufflinks, Tivan also caught sight of his hands.  “And you would rather I remove the nail polish, wouldn’t you?”

“Hmm?  Why?”

Tivan held up one hand with its back facing the Asgardian and regarded Loki over it.  “Gaudily painted?”

“Oh.”  Loki cupped his own hand behind Tivan’s fingertips and looked at the zaffre-blue polish.  “You know I was only trying to annoy you when I said that.  I rather like this shade on you—leave it on.”  He clasped Tivan’s fingers in his and met his eyes again.  “And as for your clothing, if this is you at ‘plain,’ I’m afraid I’m not fit to be seen with you at ‘fancy.’  Besides, it’s mid-afternoon now, and it will take you ages to get ready if you change clothes—we’d miss the symphony entirely.”

“If you insist, my dear boy,” Tivan murmured.  He had some difficulty in concentrating on his words until he tugged his hand free of Loki’s and turned to the door.  “And if we leave now, it _will_ give us time for an early dinner first.  I’m famished—oh, I just realized why.  We missed lunch entirely!  My apologies—”

“Never mind lunch,” Loki laughed as he followed Tivan out of the guest room.  “Our breakfast was so late, I’m hardly hungry yet.  With all the sleeping and eating you do, I wonder how you have any time at all for your collecting.”

Downstairs, Loki paused in the showroom to choose his disguise.  Tivan watched the shimmering green light dance over Loki’s trim form as his appearance changed.  He did remain a man, but otherwise, he looked utterly different, with shorter but impeccably combed auburn hair, and a less angular face than usual.  He even appeared to shrink a few inches, leaving Tivan taller than him.  Loki was still young and handsome but in a far more conventional way—and to Tivan’s profound disappointment, his sharp green eyes were now a warm brown.

“What do you think?” Loki asked.  Noticing Tivan’s expression, he frowned.  “You don’t like it?”

“Oh, you look quite impressive.  It’s just—your eyes. . . .”  Tivan hesitated, then explained, “Your real eye color is so singular.  Could you keep it, perhaps?”

“You’re awfully particular about your dates, aren’t you?”  Nevertheless, Loki blinked slowly, and when his eyes opened again, they were once more the familiar green.  “Is that better?”

“Yes, much better.  I wasn’t aware this was a date, though.”  As Tivan ushered him out of the showroom, Loki glanced up at him.

“Oh, isn’t it?  How disappointing.”

On the computer-piloted shuttle flight to their destination, Tivan told Loki about the unusual dwarf planet.  “Monori rotates very slowly, so each full day lasts nearly two standard weeks.  Right now, Monori is in the middle of its week-long night, which I find quite lovely.  Maybe it’s only because I’m used to the darkness of Knowhere, but I do enjoy the night.”

“Does Monori run on the same time schedule as Knowhere?” Loki asked.  “Since you mentioned having dinner. . . .”

“Yes, it makes keeping a regular schedule easier for those who live on Monori, since almost all of them work in the service industry—Monori is primarily an escape for Knowhere’s elite.”

Loki looked around at the few other passengers on the shuttle, all of them well-dressed and all of them surreptitiously eyeing him and Tivan.  “I can see that,” Loki muttered.

When they arrived on Monori, Loki and Tivan had dinner at a smaller, less-pretentious restaurant than the night before.  Afterwards, Tivan walked Loki the short distance to the elegant building housing the symphony.  Like most of the architecture on Monori, it featured clean, smooth lines in opposition to Knowhere’s busy, cluttered constructions.  The symphony building was by far the largest in the area, only two stories tall but horizontally sprawling.  A clear glass dome topped the upper story.

Inside, an usher took them up to a private box on the second floor which overlooked the area where the orchestra would sit.  Loki stood at the box’s railing and gazed down at the seats below them, slowly filling with beings of various species.

“Do you always sit up here?” he asked Tivan over his shoulder.

“Yes, I own the box.”  Tivan sat in one of the box’s six plush seats and stretched his legs out in front of him.

“Of course you do,” Loki said with a wondering chuckle.  “Do you own _everything_ in this solar system?”

“Not everything.”  Tivan gazed at the unfamiliar back of the man before him, wishing Loki weren’t disguised.  “I don’t own the symphony itself, for instance.  I only helped start it.”

“‘Only,’” sighed Loki.  He stepped back to take the seat beside Tivan.  “I can’t say that I have never been privileged, but living like this is a new experience, even for me.  On Asgard, privilege comes by inheritance.  You. . . I suppose you’ve _earned_ yours.”

“I’ve had nearly the lifetime of the universe to do so,” Tivan shrugged.  “One can amass quite a fortune in all that time.  But that isn’t what’s important to me.  You may find this hard to believe, but I care far less about my status, or even about the act of possession, than I do about my mission. . . my dream.”

“And what is your dream, Taneleer?” Loki asked him.

Tivan smiled, turning from the orchestra gathering below them to look at Loki.  “To save the universe.”

“To save. . . .”

The Collector laughed at Loki’s bewildered—and, frankly, skeptical—expression.  “I mean ‘to save’ quite literally, as in, ‘to preserve.’  From the most exquisite creations made at the heights of our galaxy’s civilization, to the oral histories of its most remote peoples. . . .  If I don’t preserve these things, who will?”

“Preserve them from _what_?” Loki murmured.

Tivan said simply, “I don’t know.  And it really doesn’t matter _what_ —only that something, or someone, _will_ come to wipe it all away.  When that time comes, I will be there, in its way.  So you see, I don’t fear that I will ever desire death,  not while I have this duty to live for.  It’s a self-imposed duty, true—but it gives me a purpose.”  The Collector still gazed into the wide green eyes staring back at him, but instead of Loki, he was seeing Carina, and beyond her, the woman he had married eons ago.  “Perhaps it’s my _only_ purpose, the only thing that makes my life worth living.”

“Taneleer. . . .”  The soft sound of Loki’s voice brought him back to the present, and Tivan’s eyes refocused on Loki’s.  His brows—higher now than on his true face—were knitted.  “Do you—”

“Shh,” Tivan interrupted him, gesturing outward with one hand as he turned to face forward again.  “The orchestra’s tuning up.”

Loki fell silent, and they listened to the discordant noises coming from the instruments below them.  When the real performance began, Tivan closed his eyes and tilted his head back against his chair, savoring the music.  That was something else he desired but could not have; music could only be collected in recorded form, not as the living thing the musicians now summoned.  Tivan _did_ collect recordings, of course: digital copies of every significant piece composed throughout the galaxy, physical media of the most famous, even sheet music and other printed notation for some of his favorites.  But he could never own music itself; it was as fleeting and as timeless as nebulae or electricity or love.

Music could only be experienced, never contained, and that made Tivan love the experience all the more.  He went to the symphony often for that reason, alone or with dates like Marteena because they gave him another excuse to make the trip to Monori and listen to what he could not possess.  It was different with Loki, though.  Usually as he listened, Tivan could forget the Marteenas of the galaxy and lose himself in the physical and emotional sensation of the music—but that evening, some part of him remained tethered to his chair by the man beside him.  Even though they didn’t speak or touch, even though Tivan kept his eyes closed, he was aware of Loki’s presence, and he enjoyed it: enjoyed sharing the symphony with someone who would appreciate it for its beauty and not for the status of attending it with Taneleer Tivan. . . enjoyed just _being_ with someone.  Tivan couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

When the intermission came, Tivan finally opened his eyes and looked at his companion.  Loki’s head was bent, a forelock of the unfamiliar auburn hair hanging down in front of his face.

“Have you enjoyed it so far?” Tivan inquired.

Loki lifted his head and nodded with a smile.  “Oh yes, very much.  Let me guess—you wrote the symphony, too.”

Tivan surprised himself with a genuine laugh.  “Heavens, no.  I don’t have any talent for music, just an appreciation of it.”

“Did you commission it, then?”  Loki raised one eyebrow, a very familiar gesture, even on the stranger’s face.

“No, I was not involved in the composition in any way,” Tivan chuckled.  “I did not bring you here to show off, I promise.  Just to pass the time.”

“Well, then it’s an agreeable way to do so,” Loki conceded.

Tivan stood and stretched out his legs.  “Would you like to move around before they begin again?  You might have noticed the dome on top of the building when we arrived—there’s quite a lovely garden up there I could show you.”

“All right.”  Loki stood as well and followed him out of the box.  When the usher approached them, Tivan assured him they could find the way themselves and asked that they not be disturbed.  In truth, he only wanted to give Loki a chance to shed his disguise, remembering how the Asgardian had said it strained him to maintain an illusion for too long.  The look the usher gave them, however, made Tivan realize how perverse his request sounded.  He hoped Loki hadn’t noticed the usher’s stare, but Loki’s slight smirk suggested otherwise.

They ascended a spiral staircase which terminated inside the domed garden.  The top of the dome was open to let in a layer of cool air that felt pleasant after the climate-controlled atmosphere of the building below.  A soft light glowed from a few recessed fixtures near the top of the staircase, but otherwise only the stars and two small moons lit the garden.

Loki looked around at the foliage surrounding them and murmured, “Why are the flowers blooming now, at night?”

“Nocturnal flowers are planted here as well as diurnal ones,” Tivan explained, “since Monori’s nights are so long.  Many succulent species bloom at night, and there are some orchids and flowering vines as well.”

“How fascinating,” Loki murmured.  He took a step toward a sprawling cactus with showy white blossoms, then paused.  “Are you certain no one else will come up here?”

“Er, yes,” Tivan muttered, remembering the usher and wondering how prone he was to gossiping.

Loki let his illusory appearance fade; it melted with a faint green glow, leaving the usual—and, to Tivan, much-preferred—Loki.  He was still wearing the claret-colored tunic.

“That’s a relief,” the Asgardian commented as he resumed his examination of the flowers.  A few bats fluttered a safe distance away from the two men, some feeding on insects and others on the flowers themselves.  Loki didn’t seem disturbed by them, but when something large darted past him with a harsh buzz, he started.

“What was _that_?”

Tivan followed it over to another large, white flower, this one blooming from a vine trailing up one of the arbors positioned near the edge of the dome.  When it alit on one of the flowers, the creature proved to be an enormous moth as big as a small bird.

“Only a moth,” Tivan said to Loki over his shoulder.  It was a magnificent insect with a bold pattern of stripes on its wings and a patch of fluff on its back like the mane of a tiny lion.  “I have some like it in my collection.”

“Living or dead?” Loki asked, a bit facetiously, as he came to stand at Tivan’s side.  They watched the moth together as it drank, unaware of their observation.

“Both.  Some deceased ones on display, and some living ones cryogenically preserved.”  Tivan smiled as the moth lifted off the flower with a rapid, buzzing vibration of its wings like a hummingbird.  It hovered for a moment before landing on a different flower.  “As much as I would enjoy having waking ones to observe, they require too much care to be practical.”

“It’s magnificent,” said Loki.  He cocked his head to the side to cast his eyes over at Tivan.  “It reminds me of you.”

Tivan’s smile became a laugh.  “How so?  Loud and likes to drink?”

“Well, yes, but that wasn’t what I meant.”  Loki smiled too, one of his rare, true smiles that showed his teeth.  “I was referring to its striking appearance. . . and its fluffiness.”

“Oh, I’m fluffy, am I?” Tivan countered.

“Between the hair and the capelet. . . you _are_ , rather.”

Tivan could think of no rejoinder to that remark, and he only shook his head as he gazed at Loki.  The bluish light from the celestial objects overhead accentuated the contrast between Loki’s pale skin and dark hair, and his eyes almost glowed.

Loki’s smile had softened until his lips hid his teeth, but it still seemed genuine as he murmured, “What are you thinking?  You’re looking at me as if you want to box me up and put me in your collection.”

“Mmn.”  Tivan’s hum of response faded into a sigh, and he turned back to the flowers.  The moth had flown away, but the white flowers were interesting in themselves.  Tivan thought they resembled small moons, like the two fragments of rock which orbited Monori.  “You asked me what I do if I desire something I can’t collect.  The music is like that—live performances of it, I mean, not mere recordings—and so is watching this little creature go about its life.  And so is watching you go about yours.  If something cannot be collected, then I experience it, immerse myself as fully in it as I can while it lasts.  Then when it’s gone, I at least have the memory.”

Before Loki made any reply, the sound of the orchestra reached them, seemingly drifting up from the ground.

“The intermission must be over,” Loki observed.  “I didn’t realize we could hear the music up here, too.”

“Quite a feat of acoustics, isn’t it?”  Tivan shifted to face him again so he could gesture at a vent in the ground near their feet; it was nearly obscured by carefully-arranged plants.  “Instead of just using microphones and speakers, the designers engineered it to be carried up here naturally.”  He hesitated, then suggested, “If you’d prefer to listen to the rest of the symphony out here, we could.”  In truth, Tivan didn’t want to go back inside; he wanted to stay out there in the dark garden where the moths buzzed and Loki wore no disguise.

Loki studied him a moment before answering, “All right.”  He tilted his head to one side again and asked, “Taneleer, do you ever dance?”

“Er, yes, on occasion.  What an odd question.”

“Oh, my apologies.  It’s only that the music reminded me of certain rituals performed on Asgard.”  Loki straightened his head up and moved a step closer.  “Once, Asgardians danced only as part of these rituals, but over time, dancing has become more common—still rather a formal affair though, far more ceremonial than it is in many other civilizations.”  His eyebrows lifted in a slight arch.  “From what I saw during the time I spent on Earth—Terra—it’s become quite silly in some places.”

“I imagine so,” Tivan mused, remembering the Terran who called himself Star-Lord.  “I only know some of the more formal dances myself—participation in them is expected at certain social events I attend.  To be frank, I’m not all that good at them.”

“Really?  After nearly all the time in the universe to practice?” Loki smirked.  “I would assume you’re being modest, but I don’t think you know how.”  He abruptly held out his arms, one raised and one lowered, with both palms turned up.  “Show me.”

Tivan stared at him.  “You. . . want me to dance with you?”

Loki kept smirking and beckoned him forward with his fingers.

 _Why not?_ thought Tivan.  He stepped forward, laid his left hand against Loki’s waist, and clasped Loki’s raised hand in his right.  “Am I leading?” he asked with a smile as he felt Loki’s right hand come to rest against his shoulder.

“Go ahead,” Loki replied.  Tivan began to move with him in a simple ballroom dance step; he hadn’t been exaggerating about his lack of skill at dancing, but he could do it well enough to get by at the sort of parties women like Marteena liked to attend.  Loki, on the other hand, would have excelled at such events.  He moved lightly on his feet in time to the music floating up to them from below.

“You should have led,” observed Tivan with a chuckle at his own expense.  “You’re quite good, especially if dancing on Asgard is as formal as you said.”

Loki shrugged his own shoulder, and his fingers tightened their hold on Tivan’s.  “It’s like fighting—you can’t think too hard about it or you’ll falter.”

Tivan enjoyed dancing with Loki as he had enjoyed hearing the symphony together: unlike Tivan’s usual dance partners, Loki was taking pleasure just from the act of dancing, dancing for its own sake and not because it was a social strategy engineered to insinuate himself with the Collector.  _Ironic,_ Tivan thought, _because he can be so calculating.  But then, he’s already getting what he wants from me tomorrow, when we set off in search of tesseracts.  He can afford to act without motive now._

The music coming from beneath their feet had slowed into another movement of the symphony, and Tivan slowed his steps with it.  The velveteen fabric of Loki’s borrowed tunic felt soft under his hand, and beneath it, he could feel the shifting of the Asgardian’s hip as he moved.  Tivan tugged at it, drawing Loki to him.  He thought Loki might resist, but the younger man shifted closer until their cheeks nearly touched and their clasped hands rested against Tivan’s chest.

Tivan’s heart beat in a way he hadn’t experienced in ages—almost in _literal_ ages.  His own breath came rapid and shallow as Loki’s tickled his ear.  The two of them were hardly moving anymore, although the orchestra played on, and it seemed as if the whole galaxy had spun itself out.  Time always passed slowly for the immortal Tivan, but now, it stopped.

“If you desire something that can’t be collected,” Loki whispered, “you experience it, you immerse yourself in it. . . so ultimately, what you collect are memories.”

Tivan closed his eyes, the better to experience and immerse himself in the would-be god he held.  “That’s right.”

“Why?  When that great and terrible whatever, or whoever, comes and wipes away civilization. . . how will your memories save the galaxy?”

“Heh,” Tivan exhaled in a soft laugh.  “Oh, they won’t.  But they give me something pleasant to think about, something else to pass the time.  Time is the one thing I have in greater abundance than any other.”

“Do you ever,” Loki continued to whisper, “pass the time thinking about _me_?”  With his next words, his lips brushed Tivan’s ear.  “Do you desire me, Taneleer?”

Tivan still doubted him, still couldn’t trust him entirely, but the Collector was tired of maintaining his persona and pretending that his desires began and ended with the items he hoarded.

“Yes,” he murmured.  “I want you, Loki.”

Tivan heard as well as felt the hiss of breath his words drew from the Asgardian, as if Loki hadn’t expected his admission to come so quickly, if at all.  Loki turned his head toward Tivan, drawing back just enough to do so, and hovered his lips a scant inch from the Collector’s.  Even though Loki had kissed him once before, the situation was entirely different now: this wasn’t some attempt to annoy an onlooker, with Loki in a silly disguise.  _This,_ Tivan thought, _is real._

When Loki touched his mouth to Tivan’s, his tongue flicked out to trace the birthmark on Tivan’s lower lip.  Tivan parted his lips to Loki’s touch, then tilted his head just enough to fit their mouths together as he brushed the tip of Loki’s tongue with his own.  When Loki’s tongue slipped into his mouth, Tivan lifted the hand on the Asgardian’s waist to his hair, threading the black strands between his fingers.  They felt every bit as silky as he had imagined they would.

Loki’s free hand drifted to Tivan’s hair too, cupping the back of his head to hold it steady as he deepened his kiss, but their hands remained clasped against the Collector’s shoulder.  They explored each other’s mouths slowly and deliberately, until Loki finally pulled back.  He did even that slowly, closing his lips over Tivan’s and holding them there a moment first.

“Taneleer.”  Loki’s green eyes bore into Tivan’s as he murmured the Collector’s name.  “Would you be offended if I ask you to take me back to Knowhere before the symphony ends?”

“Of course not.  You are my guest,” Tivan replied, as if they weren’t standing there clasping each other and their mouths weren’t still almost touching.  “If you’re tired of the music, we don’t have to stay.”

“I’m not tired of the music; it’s lovely.  But. . . .”  Loki broke their gaze by dropping his eyes, and his whispered words came out in a bewildered near-laugh—a laugh at himself.  “I desire you too, Taneleer, I _want_ you, and I don’t want to wait.”

Tivan thought he probably would have gone anywhere Loki asked just to hear those words.  He let go of Loki’s hair, pulled his own head from the Asgardian’s grasp, and tugged on their joined hands to direct Loki toward the stairs.

\--

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

Tivan was nervous by the time they made it back to Knowhere.  _Nervous, **me** , _he thought with scorn, _Taneleer Tivan, Elder, the Collector.  Nervous!_   But as they disembarked the shuttle, Loki once more disguised in his illusion, Tivan cut himself a break: he hadn’t felt this way in a very long time.  Just what “this way” was, he didn’t quite know, but it was something more than lust or simple desire.  Somehow, he had come to care for Loki as well as want him.

Loki moved with self-assurance until they had returned to Tivan’s home and ascended to the penthouse.  Once there, after he dissolved his illusion and stood before Tivan in the parlor, his demeanor shifted ever so slightly to one slightly less confident.  _Maybe he is nervous too,_ Tivan considered.

“We’ve had a rather long day,” Loki murmured.  “Would it be all right if I bathed before. . . first?”

“Yes, certainly,” Tivan assured him.  “In fact, I should do the same, then I’ll return to fix us some drinks.”

Loki’s pale mouth twitched in a half-smile.  “I might have guessed you would.  Until then.”

They separated to their own rooms, and Tivan hurried to shower and then fret over what sort of clothing to put on.  On Monori, Loki had said he wanted him, but now Tivan couldn’t guess the Asgardian’s intentions.  “Before”—before _what?_   Finally, Tivan dressed in a silk robe the shade of blue Loki had appreciated on his nails.  He fussed over his hair a moment, reapplied eyeliner in a way intended to look as if he _hadn’t_ reapplied it, then returned to the parlor.

Loki had not returned, and as Tivan prepared their drinks—champagne for both of them this time—he worried that maybe Loki wasn’t coming back at all.  Maybe he’d changed his mind, and the bath had been an excuse for him to escape to his room.  Tivan’s hands actually shook slightly as he picked up the champagne glasses, and he set the glasses carefully on a mirror-topped coffee table before he ended up dropping them.  Sinking down onto a sleek sofa upholstered in black velvet, the Collector took a deep breath to calm himself.  Where _was_ Loki, anyway?

_He isn’t coming back,_ Tivan thought yet again. _You’ve managed to get yourself stood up for the first time in—_

But he never finished the thought, because right then, Loki _did_ come back.  Tivan looked up to see him standing in the open doorway, either hesitating or pausing for effect.  Maybe both.

“Is it all right for me to wear this?” the Asgardian asked, gesturing to the clothing he had put on from the closet in his room.  Loki was wearing a very thin and very delicate robe crafted from golden silk, which had cost Tivan a very large amount of money.  His dark hair was still damp and hung down straight on the back of his neck, probably getting the collar of the robe wet.  Under any other circumstances, Tivan would have been annoyed at such treatment of his property, but said property looked so good on Loki, Tivan didn’t mind in the least.

He nodded silently in answer to Loki’s question.  The Asgardian finally approached and picked up one of the glasses, then stood across the coffee table from where Tivan sat.  He was barefoot, his narrow feet as pale as the marble tile floor he stood on as he tasted the champagne.

“A nice change of pace from the mead,” Loki commented as Tivan picked up and drank from his own glass.  “Normally, I don’t drink much at all, but it seems to be a habit with you.”

Tivan smiled and shrugged; having something to do was helping him relax.  “Like everything else, it passes the time.  But I’d grown used to drinking alone—your company makes it far more enjoyable.”

One side of Loki’s mouth curled up in a smile.  “You would probably like the mead hall on Asgard.  Lots of drinking and eating and boasting. . . you’d be right at home.  I hated it, most of the time.”

“We’re so very different,” Tivan mused, “and yet we seem to appreciate many of the same things.  Of course, that’s also the problem with us—we both _want_ many of the same things too, and unfortunately, often there’s only one of each to be had.  Yet we still manage to get along.”

“We complement each other,” murmured Loki.  “You fascinate me, Taneleer.  You really do.”

Tivan looked up from his glass to gaze at the other man.  Where the filmy silk of the golden robe clung to Loki, it outlined every plane and angle of his physique: shoulders, torso tapering into his narrow waist, hip bones.  Tivan could see the muscles of Loki’s calves tensed below the knee-length hem of the robe.  The Collector’s pulse quickened, and he set his glass back down before it started shaking again in his hand—not from nerves this time, but from desire.

“Come here,” Tivan growled, sweeping his eyes up to take in the expression on Loki’s face: a mixture of amusement, arrogance, and apprehension.  The apprehension faded when Tivan spoke, and Loki moved closer, side-stepping the coffee table.  He stopped within Tivan’s reach, tilted back his champagne glass to drain it, then put it down on the table beside Tivan’s.  The Collector reached up to grasp Loki’s hips through the silk covering them and spread his fingers over the slippery fabric.

“The ancient Terrans were right to depict you as a deity,” Tivan murmured as he continued to look up at Loki’s face.  He knew exactly what to say to feed Loki’s ego, exactly what Loki would want to hear—but he also meant every word as he spoke it, never mind that Tivan himself was more god-like in age and ability than Loki could ever be.  “You are absolutely divine.  Let me worship you,” he whispered, “the way a god deserves to be worshiped.  Let me show you my utmost devotion, my dear Loki.”  He let go of Loki’s left hip so he could take the Asgardian’s hand instead, drawing it to him and brushing the back of it with his lips.

“Yes,” Loki breathed.  He turned his hand in Tivan’s to rest his fingers under the Collector’s chin.  Tivan closed his eyes and caressed Loki’s palm.  He was gratified to feel it tremble.

Aware of Loki watching him, Tivan pulled the long, slender fingers up to his mouth and engulfed two of them to suck on them.  He heard Loki make a soft, incoherent noise and hid a smile.  Loki’s right hand came to rest on the back of Tivan’s head, stroking upwards into his hair, as he pressed his hip into Tivan’s other hand.  Tivan clenched his fingers over Loki’s hip bone but made himself concentrate on the Asgardian’s fingers instead.  It was a game of sorts, seeing which one of them would break first, but Tivan also wanted to demonstrate just what he meant by “worship.”  He sucked gently on the two fingers in his mouth, ran his tongue along and between them, then bit down lightly.

“Taneleer—” gasped Loki.  He gripped a handful of Tivan’s hair and tugged his fingers free of the Collector’s mouth; then he fairly pounced on the seated man, straddling his lap and bending down so he could crush their mouths together.  This time, there was no slow exploring of each other’s mouths, only increasing desperation as Tivan reached around Loki to grip his ass and hold the Asgardian down against him, and Loki wrapped his free arm over Tivan’s shoulders.

When Loki broke the kiss and tilted his head back to catch his breath, Tivan pressed his mouth to the Asgardian’s exposed throat and caressed it, alternating nips and kisses under Loki’s jaw and down the side of his neck.  Loki hissed with pleasure as Tivan bit down on the V where his clavicles met.

“Please,” his voice came in a hoarse whisper, and when he didn’t continue, Tivan looked up at him with a rather strained smirk.

“Please _what_ , my dear?”

“Worship me,” Loki whispered, bending his head to meet Tivan’s eyes.  “If you desire me so much, make me yours.”

Tivan stood up from the sofa, picking Loki up at the same time by locking his hands under the Asgardian’s thighs and pushing Loki’s legs up around his waist.  Loki gasped and tightened his legs and arms around Tivan in an attempt not to fall.

“You. . . you’re stronger than you look,” the Asgardian observed with a weak chuckle.  Tivan tilted his head to kiss Loki’s neck as he took a step forward; then he dispensed with walking altogether and lifted a few inches off the ground to float to his room instead.

“You can fly,” Loki observed flatly in between noises of pleasure at Tivan’s caresses.  “You can—nngh— _fly_.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, darling,” Tivan murmured.

“I’m going to find out.”  Loki pressed closer to his chest and put his lips to Tivan’s ear as he whispered, “I’m going to find out _everything_.”  Tivan nearly dropped him when he felt Loki’s tongue trace the curve of his outer ear, then his teeth nip the slight point on top.  “Everything you can do. . . everything _I_ can do to you to drive you crazy.”

“You’re quite skilled at that already.”  Tivan used his elbow to hit the panel that opened the door to his suite and floated inside.  Before the door had even slid shut behind them, he had laid Loki on the bed on his back.  Tivan knelt on the bed beside the Asgardian and gazed down at the beautiful man looking back up at him.

“From the very first time I looked into your exquisite eyes,” Tivan whispered, reaching down to trail his fingers through the strands of Loki’s hair now spread out over his pillow, “I wanted you.”  He shifted on the bed to straddle Loki’s thighs and leaned over the Asgardian to kiss the base of his throat again.  He felt Loki swallow, heard his breath coming rapidly, but Loki didn’t speak again.  Tivan kissed his way down Loki’s breastbone and spread the silk of his robe open to expose his pale chest.

Loki squirmed as Tivan ran his hands over his chest, massaging his pectorals and brushing his nipples with his thumbs.  When Tivan replaced one thumb with his mouth, Loki made a noise that was nearly a whimper.  Tivan elicited many more such noises before he was through exploring the Asgardian’s body with his hands and mouth, sometimes on bare skin and sometimes through the fine silk of his robe.  Loki writhed and moaned under his touch, and when he finally came, he clutched his hands in Tivan’s hair as he arched his back and nearly screamed the Collector’s name.

“Tan—!” Loki groaned while the tremors shook his whole body.  Tivan shuddered too with the surprising intensity of the emotion he felt at hearing Loki’s voice break over his name.  He rested his head against Loki’s thigh a moment, trying to calm his own breath, then slid up the Asgardian’s body to look down at Loki’s face with his weight braced on his arms.

Loki’s eyes were closed, his lashes standing out long and black against his pale cheeks, but then his lids lifted, and he gazed up at Tivan.  After a moment, he lifted his hand back to Tivan’s hair and pulled the Collector’s head down to kiss him deeply.  Tivan relaxed into the kiss, despite the tension of his own arousal. . . until Loki suddenly clamped one arm down across his back and neatly flipped them over so that he lay on top of the Collector.

“Mmpgh!” Tivan cried into Loki’s mouth, and he narrowed his eyes at the smug smirk the Asgardian wore when he pulled back.

“I’m stronger than I look, too,” Loki teased.  He bent his head again and sucked Tivan’s lower lip into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue.  Tivan was the one to whimper then as he let his own eyes fall closed.  Loki’s mouth withdrew, but then Tivan felt it make feather-light touches all over him: on his face, ears, neck.  Soon Loki’s fingertips moved in concert with his lips, and it seemed as if the Asgardian knew exactly what Tivan wanted and where—but as soon as Tivan would arch into his touch, Loki would withdraw to another spot. . . driving him crazy, as Loki said he would.

“Nngh, Loki, please,” Tivan groaned as Loki’s fingers brushed over his thighs.

“Please what?” Loki mocked him playfully.  “What do you want, Tan?”

“ _You_ ,” moaned the Collector.  “Touch me, my divine Loki, please!”  He heard Loki take a sharply indrawn breath at his words, but then he forgot everything except for Loki’s hands and mouth moving over him until he climaxed with a hoarse cry some minutes later.  When Tivan managed to open his eyes to look down at the Asgardian, he saw vivid eyes looking back at him, fixed on his face.  Loki moved up to lie beside him, propped up on one elbow, all without breaking eye contact.

“Did I please you?” Loki murmured.  Tivan wondered if he were being facetious, for how could he imagine otherwise?

“Yes, you pleased me.”  Tivan reached up to trail his fingertips along Loki’s cheek then pulled Loki’s head down to kiss him.  When the Asgardian lowered himself to lay his head next to Tivan’s, the Collector stroked back his dark hair and caressed his pale forehead.  “Loki, my treasure. . . .”

As before, Loki did not reply, and Tivan wondered if his expressions of affection made the younger man uncomfortable.  His heart ached at the thought, even as he scolded himself for it.  It was ridiculous of him to expect any reciprocation of his feelings, whatever those feelings were.  In fact, just getting Loki into his bed was an accomplishment he’d never expected to achieve.  Already, Tivan wanted the other man again, but he made himself refrain from putting his hands back on the Asgardian’s body.  They _did_ have to awaken early, after all.

Loki was apparently thinking of that too, for he asked, “Where do you wish for me to sleep?”

Tivan looked into the green eyes fixed on his so calmly, like Loki was merely asking a practical question with no emotional consequences.  Which, in Loki’s mind, he probably was.

“If you would be more comfortable in your own room, I will understand,” Tivan replied, “but. . . I had hoped you would stay with me.”

The slightest twitch lifted Loki’s brows for an instant, and he exhaled as if with relief at the answer he’d gotten.   _Probably my imagination_ , Tivan told himself, anything to keep his feelings at bay.  Loki did not speak again, only closed his eyes and lay still beside the Collector without touching him.  As far as Tivan could tell, Loki fell asleep within moments.  Tivan watched him, finally able to look to his heart’s content at the white, angular face framed by long, black hair.  He ached to take Loki in his arms and go to sleep holding him; he wanted. . . he wanted a thousand things: to hold Loki, to take him and be taken by him, to beg him to stay with him there on Knowhere long after they returned from their fool’s errand to Kythica, whether they returned with tesseracts or without.

_He’s right,_ Tivan thought, _we complement each other.  And he—he completes me.  All the things I call him—my dear, my divine, my treasure—I call him mine, but really, I’m **his**._   The Collector had, if one wanted to be ironic about it, been himself collected.  Tivan allowed himself a rather bitter smile as he closed his own eyes and tried to sleep.

_Against all my better judgment, I’ve fallen in love with him,_ was his last clear thought that night.

\--

Tivan awoke in the early hours of the morning to find Loki’s head on his shoulder.  The Asgardian’s arm was draped over Tivan’s bare chest with his fingers curled against the Collector’s neck.  Moving slowly so as not to wake his sleeping lover—who would certainly withdraw to his own side of the bed if he came awake—Tivan brought up his own hand to stroke the silky hair back from Loki’s face; then he rested his arm across the Asgardian’s back.  Loki was still partially clothed in his robe, and Tivan spread his hand over the fabric to feel one bony shoulder blade beneath the silk.

After some time had passed, Loki stirred.  Tivan had been staring up at the priceless chandelier hanging from his ceiling, but he closed his eyes and pretended to be sleeping when he felt Loki move against him.  The Asgardian pushed himself up on his arms, and Tivan’s arm fell to his waist.  While he lay still, Tivan felt Loki’s fingers against his cheek, tracing the line that creased his skin there then trailing through his hair above his ear.  That simple touch set Tivan’s nerves on fire.

“Taneleer,” Loki murmured.  Tivan chose not to respond, just to see what Loki would do.  He felt the Asgardian’s hair brush his cheek as Loki bent his head to whisper in his ear.  “Tan. . . wake up!”  Loki waited a few seconds, then, when Tivan still didn’t move, he bit the Collector’s earlobe lightly.

“ _Ow!_ ”  Tivan winced and opened one eye to glare up at the younger man now leaning over him again with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.  “What did—did you _bite_ me?”

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Loki informed him, “and you said we would get an early start for Kythica this morning.”

“True, but you didn’t have to _bite_ me.”  Tivan rubbed his ear, which didn’t actually hurt that much, then cuffed his hand over the back of Loki’s neck and pulled him down to nip at his jaw.  “What if _I_ bite _you_ now, hmm?”

Loki groaned and tilted his head to the side even as he protested, “Stop that.  We need to—to leave. . . nngh, Tan, stop. . . .”  Tivan ignored his complaints in favor of covering the Asgardian’s slender neck with caresses.

“Kythica can wait,” Tivan growled in between bites to Loki’s throat.  “Right now, I only want _you_ , my treasure—in fact, I want you quite badly, and it’s your own fault for biting me.”  Despite Loki’s initial protests, he acquiesced when Tivan pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips for better access to his neck and shoulders.

“H-how was I to know that—that you get off on being bitten?” Loki complained.  At the same time, he gripped Tivan’s spread thighs in his hands and thrust up against him.  Tivan decided not to let the Asgardian get away with that bit of hypocrisy, and he rocked his pelvis down to pin Loki to the bed beneath him.

“Make up your mind, Loki,” he hissed as he ceased his caresses and gazed at the younger man sternly.  “Do you want me, or don’t you?  If you don’t, we’ll get up right now, and I won’t lay another finger on you the entire way to Kythica.  But if you do, my darling god of mischief and mayhem. . . I promise I’ll make it worth your time.”

Loki’s green eyes were dilated as he stared up at Tivan.  The Collector felt the tensed body beneath him twitch; then Loki’s fingers clenched over his thighs.

“I can’t resist you, Taneleer,” Loki whispered.  “I _can’t_.”

By the time they eventually made it out of bed, Tivan felt satisfied, at least for the time being.  Loki returned to his own room to clean up, and Tivan let him go without protest even though he would have preferred that they bathe together.  Tivan did not suggest it, choosing not to press his luck, and anyhow, they both had to pack clothing for the trip.  Before Loki left him, Tivan told him to keep the claret-red tunic he’d worn the day before.

“Are you sure?” Loki asked.  “I know you said it was of no cultural significance, but it looked expensive.”

“It was,” Tivan admitted, “but you’ve been the only one to wear it since I acquired it, and it suits you so well.  You are as stunning in red as you are in green, my dear.”  When Loki smiled, pleased with the compliment, Tivan added in a murmur, “Perhaps when you wear it, you’ll think of me.”

Loki’s smile faltered, and he drew his full lower lip between his teeth.  But then, he muttered, “Believe me, I will,” before he left Tivan’s suite for his own.

When they reconvened in the dining room for breakfast, Tivan managed to gather his wits and put on at least some of his usual veneer; being out of Loki’s presence had given him a chance to compose himself.  While they ate—quickly, at Loki’s urging—Tivan explained that he had had certain weapons and armor placed on the ship he’d procured, in addition to the supplies they would need.

“I’ve equipped an electrified spear for you, since you seem to enjoy long, pointy weapons,” he told Loki, who smirked.

“Was that meant to be some kind of innuendo?” he teased.

“Don’t try to distract me,” Tivan countered, “or we’ll never get on our way.  There’s also armor that should fit you, and enough containment vessels to capture several tesseracts, should we be lucky enough to find them.”

“Mmn, all right,” Loki nodded.  He had finished eating and begun to fidget.  “Aren’t you through yet?  We’re already later getting started than I wanted to be, thanks to you and your libido.”

“ _My_ libido?  You had every chance to deny me, my dear.  And I seem to recall having to get you off _twice_ before you let me—”

“Never mind.”  Loki’s high cheekbones flushed ever so slightly.  “Just eat faster.”

When they were ready to depart, Tivan dismissed his servants and ensured that his showroom and home was secure and well (if not intelligently) guarded by the thugs he had hired.  Loki had assumed his male disguise from the previous evening, although he told Tivan he still wished to use the name Eris.

“What about you?” Loki asked as they strode through Knowhere to the hangar where their ship awaited.  “Are you going to make any effort to hide your identity?”

“Why should I?” Tivan replied loftily.

“You make a good point,” mused his companion, quickening his steps once the hangar was in sight.  “I’m sure they’ve never heard of you on Kythica.”

Tivan grumbled, “That wasn’t what I meant,” but Loki was already hurrying in to look over their ship.  Tivan cast one last glance back at Knowhere before he followed.

\--

To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

The ship was Tivan’s favorite type: small and fast.  The Collector checked the cargo hold to ensure that the items he’d ordered had been stocked; then he and Loki toured the rest, Loki having abandoned his disguise as soon as they were safely on board.  There wasn’t much to the ship besides the bridge and hold, just a tiny galley and a cabin with a single bed.

“It looks like you were making some assumptions when you commissioned this particular ship,” Loki observed when he saw the cabin.

“I wasn’t paying attention to the sleeping arrangements,” Tivan retorted, scowling at the Asgardian’s smirk.  “It’s a very fast ship, so I didn’t think that we’d be sleeping at _all_.”

“I would think you’d know more about space travel than _that_.”  Loki sauntered out of the cabin and over to the pilot’s chair on the bridge.  “It will take us at least fifteen hours to get to the outskirts of the galaxy, before we can even _begin_ to start looking for this planet.”  He tapped some buttons on the ship’s console to pull up a digital image of the map from Captain Flint’s biography.  As Tivan had mentioned, the map had been scanned into his computer as part of the digitization of his library, but as far as the computer knew, it was just a picture and not a usable map.

“How do you know anything about computers?  Or flying, for that matter?” Tivan asked as he came to stand behind Loki’s chair, watching while Loki opened up the ship’s navigation software.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, darling,” Loki quipped over his shoulder, echoing Tivan’s words of the previous night.  “I’ve been around.  Now be quiet and let me think.”  Tivan fell silent in a sulk, but he still was impressed by Loki’s technical skills.  Loki overlaid the old map onto the up-to-date version in the navigation system, and with a few movements of his slender fingers had the coordinates plotted and most of the unidentified worlds matched up to currently-known ones—or, in some cases, worlds that been obliterated after Flint’s time.  Kythica was one of the few dots from the original map which had no corresponding mark in the current system.

“This gives us the general location of where Kythica will be, taking into account the interstellar shift that has occurred due to the universe’s expansion since this map was drawn,” Loki muttered.  “Of course, we have no idea of Kythica’s orbit, or if it even still exists—but we at least know where to start looking.”

“Mmn.”  Tivan moved up between the pilot’s and copilot’s chairs to study the map projected in the space above the console.  Then he looked down at Loki beside him.  “This is. . . well, frankly, I’m impressed, my dear.  Your intelligence never ceases to amaze me.”

Loki glanced back up at him, smirking again but with undisguisable pleasure in his eyes.  “Well, I’ll just say that between the two of us, we’re accomplishing this far quicker than either of us could do it alone.”

“Certainly.”  Tivan smiled, albeit wistfully.  “In fact, I rather wish I could keep you here afterwards to assist me.  You’re much more capable than any of my previous assistants. . . and much more beautiful.”

Loki’s smirk faded.  “We do work well together.  And you. . . .”  He dropped his gaze back to the console, moving his hands over it to power up the ship’s engines.  “There’s no one else like you in the entire universe,” he finished.  “Someday you must come to Asgard. . . someday after I can rule it openly, that is.”

Tivan remained beside him a moment, wondering what emotions lurked behind Loki’s words, before he settled himself in the copilot’s chair.  He decided that his usual playful banter was safer than asking Loki what he’d meant.

“Oh?  You would be ashamed for me to see you lurking about in a disguise, after all the forms you’ve taken out here?” Tivan teased him instead.

Loki cast him a deadpan look as he steered the ship out of the hangar and into the artificial atmosphere of Knowhere.  “It’s not that.  I would just prefer to be able to show off my beautiful planet as its acknowledged master.”

Tivan laughed outright.  “I think I’ve been praising you too much.  You were arrogant before, but now. . . !”

“As if _you_ don’t own an entire planet just to house your collection,” Loki shot back.  “I’ve heard all about Collecton, believe me.  At least you could have come up with a more original name!”

As they left Knowhere behind them, Tivan felt a rush of excitement looking at the intricate nebulae lacing the open space ahead.  He _had_ wanted to get away, and now he was going far, _far_ away, with a beautiful lover at his side, no less.

 _And not just **any** lover,_ Tivan thought, not allowing himself to look at Loki in case his expression should betray his thoughts.  _If only I really could keep him beside me always._

Once they were in open space, Loki allowed the ship’s computer to take over the navigation until they neared the general area of Kythica, now some fourteen hours away.  At first, they both enjoyed the very act of traveling and the beautiful view of the galaxy around them.  Then, when the trip grew tedious after a few hours of flying, Tivan alleviated their boredom by going down on his knees in front of Loki’s chair, teasingly calling Loki his captain before making the Asgardian groan with pleasure and clutch his fingers in the Collector’s hair.

Later, after they’d eaten and slept briefly, clothed but sharing the single bed, Tivan asked Loki if the tesseract had given him any idea of what her home-world was like.  They were still lying in bed together, Tivan facing Loki with his back to the wall, and the Asgardian looking up at the ceiling.

“Not really,” Loki replied to his question.  “She does not like to speak of it, I think.  She said only that she left it long ago, and that there were other tesseracts there.”

“I wonder what they’re like,” mused Tivan.  He absently trailed his fingertips along a strand of Loki’s hair that lay on the pillow near his face.  “If they’re like her.”

“No one could be like Astridr,” Loki murmured.  “Not even another tesseract.”

Tivan’s fingers froze in their motion, arrested by the words so close to what Loki had said about Tivan himself.  The Collector drew his hand back, curling his fingers inward until his painted nails pressed against his palm.

“Astridr?” he asked in a tone that sounded diffident even to his own ears.  “Is that. . . the tesseract’s name?”

“Oh. . . yes.  Anyway, she never talked much about the others, but they can’t be like her,” Loki went on, eyes still fixed on the ceiling.  “She holds the Infinity Stone, of course, but. . . it’s something else, too.”  He turned his head to look at Tivan, who drew together his own brows at the faraway look in Loki’s green eyes.  “Her name means ‘beautiful goddess.’  Most appropriate.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Tivan muttered.  He sat up, narrowly missing hitting his head on the low ceiling above their bed.  “Move so I can get up.  We must be nearing our destination by now.”

Loki frowned at him and sat up as well, looking over at the computer system’s clock displayed on one wall of the cabin.  “No, we aren’t, not for another four hours.”

“Move anyway.”

Loki’s frown shifted into a glare, but he stood up to allow Tivan to slide out of bed.  “What’s gotten into _you_?”

“Nothing’s ‘gotten into me,’” Tivan snapped back.  He straightened his clothes and ran his fingers through his white hair, trying to smooth it back into shape.  Loki folded his arms and glowered at him, lower lip caught between his teeth.

“You don’t like it when I talk about Astridr, do you?” he suddenly challenged.

“I don’t care if you talk about her or not.”  Tivan started for the cabin door, but Loki slipped past him and blocked it.

“ _You_ brought her up, when you asked what she told me about Kythica.”

“I _said_ I don’t care if you talk about her,” Tivan protested.  He clenched his hands again, resisting the urge to shove Loki aside.  “But I only wanted to know more about Kythica, not about how exquisitely beautiful your precious cube is.”

Loki studied him then smirked abruptly.  “You’re envious, aren’t you, Taneleer?”

Of course Tivan was envious, and of course he denied it.  “Why should I be?” he spat.  He turned away from Loki to lean against the wall, folding his own arms.

“Because I know how badly you want the Infinity Stones,” Loki declared, “as badly as _I_ want them.  Even if you do get another tesseract for your collection, it won’t be the same as having _her_ —and that’s why you started sulking when I reminded you how different she is.”

Tivan stifled a sigh when he realized just how far off base Loki’s reasoning was.  Yes, he was envious, but not of Loki for having the tesseract.  He was envious of the tesseract for having Loki’s heart.

“I do not want your tesseract, Loki,” he muttered.

“Oh?  You don’t?”  Loki moved from the doorway to stand before Tivan, looking him over.  When Tivan tried to step aside and reach the door, Loki came forward and blocked him with one hand against the wall.

“If you don’t want my tesseract, then what _do_ you want, Taneleer?”  Loki leaned closer to pin him to the wall.  Apparently, seduction was the method he’d chosen to appease the irate Collector, and a very effective method it was.  When Tivan turned his head to the side in an attempt to escape the temptation of the Asgardian’s mouth, Loki simply nuzzled his ear instead.  “Do you want _me_ instead?” he whispered.  His tongue flicked against Tivan’s earlobe.

“Loki,” Tivan groaned with clenched teeth and closed eyes.

Loki stepped back, but then Tivan felt the Asgardian’s slender hands moving to undress him.  Tivan tried to stop him, yet the words stuck in his throat when Loki’s hands pushed under his shirt to span his chest.  Delicate fingertips danced over his skin, teasing him.

“Tan?”  The fingertips withdrew, only to start working his belt open.  “Do you?”

Tivan finally looked at him again, pressing back against the wall and breathing hard.  “You know I want you.”

Loki’s fingers paused in their task, and he cocked his head to the side in that endearing, infuriating way he had.  “Perhaps I _don’t_ know.  Perhaps I’m not sure.”

“Nngh, you insufferable tease,” Tivan spat back, “you know very well what you do to me.  You make me crazy for you.  You make me want to bend you over and take you until they can hear you moan all the way back on Asgard, never mind that sound doesn’t travel through space!”

Loki stared at him.  After an instant, he let go of Tivan’s belt, turned to their luggage, and, dropping to his knees, began to rummage through Tivan’s.

Tivan watched for a moment then tried to regulate his voice when he asked, “What. . . are you doing?”

“As vain as you are, you _must_ have packed lotion in here somewhere.  I can’t imagine you letting your skin get dry,” Loki muttered.

“Yes, it’s—oh, you found it.”  As Loki stood, bottle of lotion in hand, Tivan said with what he thought was remarkable patience, “What do you want my lotion for?”

Loki looked at him and arched an eyebrow.  “Really, Tan, you didn’t think I’d let you go in dry, did you?”

As Loki had kept rather quiet during their previous lovemaking, Tivan was surprised and delighted at how vocal he eventually became; they might not have been able to hear him on Asgard, but his cries echoed through the ship all the same.  At the same time, Tivan heard himself moaning, worshipping Loki with his words as well as his body: “I need this, I need you, my treasure. . . my—nngh—divine—prince!”  He had to literally bite his tongue before he said too much and told Loki he loved him.

“T-taneleer. . . .”  Loki groaned in response and began babbling in a patois of the common speech and his own language: “My Collector. . . _elskan minn_. . . _ek ann ther!_ ”

Afterwards, they lay in bed again, undressed this time with Tivan’s arm draped over Loki’s back and the Asgardian’s body curled against him.  The Collector still managed to be miffed over Loki’s adoration of the tesseract until he felt his lover’s head shift back on the pillow so Loki could look at him.

“Taneleer.”

“Yes?”

Loki gazed at him for another moment without speaking; then he lifted his hand and pressed his thumb against the mark on Tivan’s lower lip.

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?”  Tivan might have thought he was just fishing for praise except for the vague concern he saw in Loki’s eyes.

“Yes.”  He thought about trying to explain just _how_ beautiful, but any phrase even approaching the truth would just sound like his usual hyperbole.  Instead, he only whispered, “You are beautiful, Loki.”

“So are you.”  Beneath Loki’s thumb, Tivan’s lips started to curl in a smirk, but Loki shook his head on the pillow.  “No, you _are_.  I know I haven’t told you so, but. . . words normally come easily for me.  Perhaps _most_ easily when they aren’t true.  I wouldn’t want you to think I’m lying when I say that I find you. . . I suppose ‘magnificent’ is the most fitting word.”

Tivan’s smirk had shifted into a true smile.  “Tell me more,” he murmured, then pursed his lips to kiss the tip of Loki’s thumb.

“You’re also very conceited, you know that?” Loki sighed, although he was smiling too.  “All right.  You spoke of my eyes being exquisite, but yours are the color of Asgard’s sky in the winter.  This. . . .”  He rubbed his thumb over the mark on Tivan’s lip.  “I want to trace it with my tongue every time I look at you.”  Loki paused to do just that but drew his head back teasingly when Tivan tried to kiss him.  “Just like I want to bite those little points on your ears and run my fingers through your hair.  Under all the ridiculous, flamboyant outfits you wear, your body is as perfect as the finest sculpture in your collection  So are your hands. . . .”  Loki dropped his hand from Tivan’s face to intertwine his fingers with the Collector’s; then he brought Tivan’s hand to his mouth and caressed his painted nails.  “And the things you do to me with these hands make me forget everything else.”

They were beautiful words, but Tivan knew they weren’t true.  He hadn’t made Loki forget Astridr, and when they had finished their search for the other tesseracts, Loki would leave him and return to her.  He thought back to what Howard the Duck had told him weeks ago, that tesseracts were said to take on the personalities of those close to them.  Was Astridr growing more and more like Loki?

 _She may be nothing more than a machine,_ Tivan thought, closing his eyes against the bitter thought, _a clever, four-dimensional machine who can open doors between worlds and reflect your own nature so that you see what you **want** to see in her.  You love her, but can she love you back?  Can she love you like I can?_

He felt Loki’s mouth on his again, kissing him fully this time.  Tivan parted his lips and sucked Loki’s tongue into his mouth as he clutched the Asgardian’s hand.  Like all things the Collector desired and couldn’t keep, he wanted to experience Loki as often and as fully as possible before losing him.

\--

They returned to the bridge when the ship finally drew near the supposed location of Kythica.  From the pilot’s chair, Loki operated the navigation system’s scanner, searching for celestial objects large enough to be planets.

“Did your informant encounter any other life forms on Kythica, besides tesseracts?” Loki asked Tivan, who was leaning back in the other chair with his legs crossed.  His surly mood had improved now that the actual search for Kythica had begun, and he watched with interest as Loki worked.

“He didn’t mention any,” Tivan shrugged, “but then he was hardly coherent as it was.  He didn’t describe the tesseracts as sentient either, for that matter.”  Reluctantly, he asked, “What about Astridr?  Did she tell you about any other beings on her world?”

Loki shook his head.  “No, only tesseracts.  Perhaps we won’t have to fight for them at all.”

“Mmn.”  Tivan knew from experience not to get his hopes up about that; most items in his collection that couldn’t be bought had had to be battled for.  Not that Tivan himself did the battling very often, not anymore—that’s what the hired help was for—but this was a special case.  Then another worrisome idea occurred to him, something he hadn’t considered before.  “Loki?  What if they don’t _want_ to be collected?”

The Asgardian glanced at him.  “Don’t tell me you’re developing morals _now_.  I’m sure none of _your_ specimens _wanted_ to be collected either, even when you told them it was for the good of the universe.”

Tivan thought of Howard and grimaced.  “That isn’t what I mean.  None of my ‘specimens,’ as you call them, can whisk me off to another dimension when they get in a snit.  Have you ever asked your cube how _she_ feels about living in a containment vessel?  I’m not sure how those Terrans captured her in the first place, but she can’t be content stowed away in Asgard’s vault, no matter how often you go visit.”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with my tesseract’s well-being,” Loki snapped, “and you know _you_ wouldn’t care for her with any more consideration than you show for your other items.  If the vessels you obtained work properly, we won’t have anything to worry about.”

“Of course they work properly.”  Tivan glowered at the other man then turned away to glare out at the blackness of space surrounding their ship.  So much for his improved mood.  How was it that Loki could so easily play with his emotions?  They both sat in sulky silence until it was broken by a query from the Asgardian.

“Tan. . . ?”

“What?” Tivan grumbled.  He might have been able to ignore Loki if he hadn’t used the nickname Tivan had come to love.

“Look at this.”

Tivan looked out at the planet upon which Loki had centered the ship.  It was small and seemed to be mostly covered in water, with a few spindly, narrow continents that looked rocky and dark brown.  Sparse clouds covered some areas of the globe.

“Do you think. . . this could be it?” Tivan murmured.

“It’s most certainly the planet marked on the map we found,” Loki told him.  “After adjusting for the shift I mentioned, this planet is exactly where the map indicated it would be.  But. . . there’s no way to know if it’s _Kythica_ unless we land and investigate.”

He and the Collector looked at one another.

“Well?” Tivan said after a moment, a smirk spreading over his mouth.  “I know _I_ didn’t come all this way just to look at a rather ugly planet—even if I _did_ quite enjoy the journey.”

Loki grinned at him, one of his rare smiles of pure delight, then turned back to the console to bring the ship down into the planet’s atmosphere.  “I’m running a scan for concentrations of intense energy.  Astridr’s energy signature is quite powerful, and although undoubtedly part of its strength comes from the Infinity Stone, I believe we should be able to detect the energy of any tesseract easily enough.  And if there are several of them together. . . .”

Although Loki was normally the impatient one, Tivan couldn’t just sit still while the Asgardian worked.  The Collector got up and began pacing behind the pilots’ chairs, raking a hand through his hair so that it stood up even more than usual.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Loki said over his shoulder.  “We’re in orbit now and, I believe, closing in on a promising energy pattern.  Just give me a moment.”  Tivan stopped directly behind Loki’s chair and peered over his shoulder until the Asgardian groaned, “All right, on second thought, _fidget_.  I can’t concentrate with you standing right here.”

“Make up your mind,” Tivan grumbled, but he fell silent when Loki held up a hand to shush him.

“I think I’ve found— _there!_ ”  Loki glanced back and up at him.  “Do you see the spike in that graph on the monitor?  That indicates just the sort of surge I was searching for.”

“Darling, you’re amazing.”  Tivan leaned down and rested his cheek against Loki’s hair.  “Where is it coming from?”

“One of the landmasses in the northern hemisphere.  We should come up on it in a minute,” Loki murmured.  He flicked one hand over the console and, much to Tivan’s pleasure, brought the other up to stroke the side of the Collector’s neck absently.  “Yes, we’re approaching the area.”  He slowed the ship’s approach and enlarged the view of the planet below them in one of the monitors.  “Look at that—it looks like. . . .”

“It’s a settlement,” Tivan finished.  Small, but a settlement nonetheless.  It appeared to consist of some kind of wall encircling a few buildings.  “That’s the source of the energy?”

“Yes.  I don’t know how long ago these structures were built, or if there are still beings living there—but there’s _something_ there.”  Loki paused, considering, then went on, “And even if those somethings are not tesseracts, they’re putting out enough energy to be valuable.  I’m going to land the ship.”

After they had landed a short distance from the settlement, Tivan equipped himself and Loki with the armor and weapons he’d brought.  He decided Loki looked especially captivating in his armor—gold-toned of course, where Tivan’s was the color of silver.

“You color-coordinated our armor on purpose, didn’t you?” Loki asked, casting him a sideways look as he adjusted a pauldron.

“Gold clashes with my hair,” sniffed Tivan.  “But it looks stunning on you, my dear, so you shouldn’t complain.”

Loki smirked even as he shook his head at the Collector’s vanity.  “I doubt the tesseracts, or their handlers, are going to care how fabulous we look.  I’m more interested in _this._ ”  He picked up the shock spear Tivan had provided for him, out of his own collection no less.  Loki activated it and took a few practice jabs into the air that made the electrified spearhead at the end crackle and spark.  “Hmm.  Nice.  It’s weighted very well. . . and it is sufficiently long and pointy, as you said.”

“Just be careful with it.  It’s priceless,” Tivan muttered.  He had a rather ordinary phaser for himself, which he slid into a holster on his hip.  Despite his age, Tivan had not had all that much experience at fighting—and what experience he did have, he had acquired long ago.  Loki, on the other hand, fought as well as he danced from what Tivan had heard, so the hand-to-hand combat was better left to him.

“What about the containment vessels?” Loki asked him.

“In here.”  Tivan lifted a black case by its long shoulder strap.  “There are six of them.  I doubt we’ll be _that_ lucky, but I did not want to be underprepared.  Do you want to carry them, or shall I?”

“You carry them.  I have the spear, and after all, you seem to enjoy showing off your strength,” Loki teased him.

As he slipped the case’s strap over his shoulder, Tivan retorted, “I picked you up _once._   And as I don’t intend to carry you to safety if we get attacked, you shouldn’t get used to it.  Now, are we ready to depart?”

Loki nodded, but as Tivan turned to the hatch, the Asgardian put a hand on his shoulder.  “Taneleer.”

“Yes?”  Tivan turned back to see Loki regarding him with a quiet, serious expression.

“Be careful, all right?”

“Of course,” murmured Tivan.  “But really, you shouldn’t be concerned.  We’re both well-armed, and while you know better than anyone else that a tesseract can be dangerous, the mere touch of one of these containment vessels will imprison one on activation.  And anyhow,” he added with a smile, “if you’re going to worry, worry about yourself.  I’m immortal, remember?”

“Believe me, I could not forget,” Loki muttered.  “But do not let your immortality make you act rashly.”

At first, Tivan wondered if Loki were trying to insult him, but the look on the Asgardian’s face told him otherwise.  Tivan’s smile softened as he brought up his hand to touch Loki’s cheek.

“You really do care for me, don’t you?”

“Of course I care for you, Tan,” Loki sighed, pressing his hand over Tivan’s.

“Then I’ll be careful, I promise.”  Tivan leaned in to brush Loki’s lips with his own.  “And I’ll protect you, my divine prince, despite what I said about not carrying you.  I _will_ carry you, if I have to.”

“You won’t have to—if one of us will need to be carried away from battle, it will be you, I’m sure.”  Loki countered the taunt with a long kiss that quite literally took Tivan’s breath away before they left the ship and started toward the settlement.

\--

To be continued


	8. Chapter 8

Kythica was a rather depressing planet, particularly for a place that was supposed to be the home-world of tesseracts.  Tivan and Loki crossed rocky ground with sparse green vegetation, more like a scruffy moss than actual grass, on their way to the settlement they’d seen from the air.  Here and there, a spindly tree sprouted from the hard soil, but for the most part, the ground covering was the only sign of plant life—or any life at all, really.  A stream had cut into the earth a couple hundred yards to their right, cut so deeply that Tivan couldn’t even see it, only the miniature cliff it had eroded along its bed.  Overall, the planet had an ancient feel to it, and yet the Collector, who valued the ancient and was of course ancient himself, didn’t like it.  It felt. . . wrong.

So did his armor.  Although he was strong enough to move easily under its weight, it still irritated him and forced him to walk more stiffly than he would have liked.  (He supposed he could have flown, but that might have just seemed like showing off.)  Loki, however, moved as gracefully as ever in his golden plating.  The harsh light of Kythica’s yellow sun glinted off his long hair, and the way he carried his electric spear was as natural as if it were a part of his body.  Tivan cast him a glare that was both envious and admiring.  How was it possible for anyone to be that beautiful, all the time?

When they drew up on the wall surrounding the settlement, it proved to be crafted of a porous grey stone quite unlike any Tivan saw in the surrounding area.  He and Loki walked along it only a short distance before they discovered a wooden door set into it.  It was quite easily the most massive door Tivan had ever seen, at least as far as wooden ones went, and it was nearly as tall as the wall itself.

“I suppose this is the way in,” the Collector muttered, “if we can only decipher how to open it.”  The door bore no knockers, knobs, or handles, only a gigantic cabochon set into it far above their heads.  Tivan eyed this marvelous gem—some sort of pearly, iridescent stone he couldn’t identify—and wondered if he might be able to obtain it for his collection.

“Perhaps we knock.”  Loki gave him a smug look and went over to the door.  He raised his fist to rap on it, but then hesitated.  “Oh, there’s an opening here.  Perhaps some sort of viewing—”  He started and took a step backward, much to Tivan’s amusement, when an almost hidden panel in the door slid open.  Tivan moved to Loki’s side, and both men found themselves regarding a humanoid but extremely sullen face.

“What do you want?” the owner of the face snapped.  The voice was harsh but feminine, as was the shape of the face glaring out at them.  The woman had pale skin, a sharp nose, and angular chin and cheek bones, although she appeared to be young.  A wisp of vibrant, red-orange hair was visible just inside the edge of little window.  She wasn’t pretty, but one set of her features _was_ arresting: her green eyes, now narrowed with suspicion.  Even through the lashes that half obscured them, Tivan could see that those eyes were even more vivid than Loki’s; describing them as “emerald” would not be an exaggeration.

Loki himself was now looking at Tivan expectantly.  He elbowed the Collector.  “Well?  What do we want?” he hissed.  “You’re the negotiator here.”

“Yes, well, _you’re_ the one who claims to be so good with words,” Tivan hissed back before performing his elaborate bow in the direction of the door.  “I am Taneleer Tivan, the Collector,” he introduced himself to the woman inside, “and this is Eris, my. . . associate.  We’re in search of certain rare items and had heard that they might be found here. . . if this is indeed the planet called Kythica.”

The woman’s exceptional eyes flicked over Tivan; she did not seem particularly impressed, or to have heard of him.  “This is Kythica, all right.  But what ‘rare items’ are you talking about?”

“Tesseracts,” said Loki, casting his own green glare right back at the woman behind the door.  It took all of Tivan’s self-control not to wince.  As good as the Asgardian might be with words, his impatience certainly made him a poor negotiator.  The very first rule of collecting was to avoid your eagerness to a prospective seller!  Of course, certain items made even Tivan lose his composure, but really, to say _immediately_ that they were after tesseracts. . . .

“Among other things,” Tivan amended to Loki’s statement.  “We are interested in anything you might be willing to show us, and we are prepared to pay you well.”  Despite his attempt at damage control, Tivan feared Loki had already ruined their chances of getting past that wall; the woman’s eyes had narrowed even further at the sound of the word “tesseracts.”

“Give me a moment,” she muttered.  The panel in the door slid shut, and Tivan looked back at Loki.

“Don’t mention tesseracts,” he hissed at the Asgardian.

“This isn’t the place for your little time-wasting strategies,” Loki retorted.  “I know that your usual way of negotiating involves dancing all around what you actually want, but we are on an inhospitable-looking planet dealing with a surly woman behind a giant _wall_.”

“Which is all the more reason why we must handle the matter delicately!”  Tivan turned to face him full-on, folding his arms across his chest as best he could in the awkward armor.

“Are you ‘handling the matter delicately,’ or just interested in drawing out the transaction so you can ogle the other party?” snapped Loki.

Tivan blinked at him.  “Wha. . . what?”

Loki arched an eyebrow.  “You were staring at her.”

“I was _not_ ,” Tivan sniffed, regaining his composure.  “It’s only that her eyes are quite remarkable.  So very green.”  Loki continued to watch him with a rather judgmental expression, but then his own eyes flicked to the side to look over Tivan’s shoulder.  He inclined his head in the slightest nod, indicating that Tivan should turn around.

Tivan duly turned and saw that the huge wooden door was now open, though little more than a sliver, and the massive cabochon was glowing with a soft, pinkish light.  The Kythican woman was standing in the narrow opening of the doorway.  Her expression hadn’t changed—still sullen, still suspicious—but Tivan could see more of her now than just her face.  She wore armor of her own, though it was forest green and made of a more flexible material than his, and her straight, red-orange hair hung down past her shoulders.  A fringe of bangs ended just above her remarkable eyes.

“You can come in,” she muttered.  She didn’t sound very excited about the prospect.  Tivan and Loki looked at each other again, this time not to glare at one another but to see if they were in agreement about whether to follow her inside the massive wall.  Despite his complaining, Loki gave Tivan another slight nod, which the Collector returned.

Tivan turned back to their reluctant hostess and purred, “Thank you, my dear.  We would be delighted.”  He thought he heard Loki mutter something under his breath, but Tivan ignored him and followed the armored woman when she retreated inside.  Loki went in after them, and the door closed all on its own.  Tivan looked back at it over his shoulder; the inside bore a cabochon which matched the one on the outside, and it too was glowing.  Once the door had shut completely, the glow faded, then went out.

Inside the wall, the settlement was smaller and more primitive than Tivan had expected.  It consisted of only a few thatch-roofed huts, otherwise made of the same stone as the wall, which encircled a larger, slightly more impressive building.  This structure appeared to be perfectly cubical, or nearly so, and was topped with a dome also made of the grey stone.  The little village, if that’s what it was, seemed devoid of any other life, until Tivan noticed a handful of humanoids gathered near the wall on the opposite side.  The small cluster turned as one to stare at the visitors—or intruders, which Tivan increasingly felt they were—then broke apart.  Three of the people disappeared into the huts, but two remained where they were, watching.

None of them wore armor, which made Tivan curious as he turned his gaze back to the red-haired woman.  Was she the only guardian of the entire settlement?  She carried no weapon that he could see.  Her armor was quite beautiful, though, with clusters of fuchsia crystals on the epaulets and the backs of her ankles.  Tivan’s eyes were drawn from those up her booted calves, past matching fuchsia gems at her knees, to muscular thighs covered in what looked to be some type of pale green synthetic material that almost resembled thick nylon stockings.  All in all, the ensemble was fabulous, and Tivan decided to make an offer on it as well as the cabochon.  Tesseracts or not, Kythica certainly had some lovely gems.

“You know our names,” Loki said to the woman coolly, “but you haven’t introduced yourself.”

She looked from him to Tivan and back again.  “My name is Waverly.  I guard this settlement.”  She glanced at their weapons, then added, “I’ve decided you two don’t pose much of a threat.”

Loki bristled, but Tivan decided to take the observation as a good sign.  “Of course not, my dear Waverly,” he said, hoping he sounded reassuring.  “We are only interested in whatever items you may have to offer.  That lovely armor you’re wearing, for instance,” Tivan added.  He reached out to touch one of the crystals on her shoulder, but she drew back and gave him a glare that rivalled Loki’s angriest look.

“My armor isn’t for sale,” she snapped.  “Considering that I just told you I _guard_ things, I kind of need it.”

“Of course, of course,” Tivan went on, undeterred.  “I only meant that if you have other sets—”

“Look, I haven’t decided to sell you _anything_ yet,” Waverly interrupted.  “It isn’t up to me.  You’ll need to discuss it with our settlement’s elders.”

“Well then, may we meet with them?” Tivan asked.

Waverly shrugged.  “That’s not up to me either.  I’ll have to ask.”  She looked across the settlement to the two people still watching them, then yelled, “ _Abdiel!_   C’mere!”  Even Tivan winced at the harsh sound of her voice.

Both of the observers came over to them.  One proved to be little more than a boy with hair the same color as Waverly’s, but his luminous eyes were hazel instead of green.  He must have been “Abdiel,” because Waverly addressed herself to him when he drew near.

“Go get Kyrie,” she told him.  “I need to talk to him about these two. . . visitors.”  The boy looked at them with curiosity plain on his pale face, but he turned and hurried to the large building at the settlement’s center.  The other person who had joined them was another young woman, a little shorter but curvier than Waverly with a less angular face.  Her silvery-white hair curled softly to her waist, and her eyes were a lovely shade of lavender yet still not as striking as Waverly’s.

 _I suppose I just have a weakness for green,_ Tivan thought with a sideways glance at Loki.  The Asgardian was observing the second woman as well with his expression now more guarded than before.  She looked back at them both, gave them a hesitant smile, then turned to the guardian.

“Waverly, who are they?” the silver-haired woman murmured.  She snuck another look at the two men then added, “They’re very handsome.”  Tivan preened, and even Loki looked appeased.

Waverly gave an audible groan.  “Don’t start.  They say they’re ‘collectors,’ and they’re looking for tesseracts.”

“Tesseracts?”  The other woman stared at them.  “How—”

“I’m going to explain the situation to Kyrie,” Waverly interrupted her, “and see what we can do for them.  And _you_ can keep an eye on them while I do it.”

“Oh!”  The woman positively beamed and stepped away from Waverly to address Tivan and Loki.  _Finally!_ Tivan thought, who was growing tired of being ignored.  “My name is Silvaria,” she told them.  “I’m. . . I guess you would say I’m the doctor here.  I’m happy to meet you!”

That was more of the greeting Tivan was used to getting, and he performed his bow again with enthusiasm.

“I am Taneleer Tivan, the Collector.”  He gestured at Loki.  “My partner, Eris.”

Before Silvaria could say anything further, the boy Abdiel returned with a man following him.  This one was tall—slightly taller than Tivan and Loki, even—with straight grey hair combed back from his forehead and falling down his back.  Despite its color, the man’s face didn’t look old.  In fact, he didn’t look anything—his stern face appeared ageless.

 _Is he one of the “elders” Waverly spoke of?_ Tivan wondered.  _He certainly doesn’t look. . . elderly._   Of course, neither did Tivan (in his own opinion), but being an immortal, capital-E Elder was slightly different than being an official in a tiny village on a lump of rock on the outer rim of the galaxy.

The eyes of the Kythican man, Kyrie, were narrow and the color of steel; they swept over the two visitors then fell on Waverly.

“You wish to speak with me?”

“In a moment,” she muttered.  “Silvaria, do something with _them_ , will you?”

“Come with me,” Silvaria gestured to them.  Her warm smile soothed Tivan’s ruffled pride at the way the other Kythicans were treating him.  Even Loki was amenable as they followed her to one of the huts nearby.  Like the door in the stone wall, the little building’s wooden door bore a cabochon, though a much smaller one.  The gem glowed briefly when Silvaria stood before it, and the door swung open, seemingly on its own.

“Fascinating!” Tivan murmured, admiring the cabochon as he passed it on his way in.  “This place looks so primitive, yet your, ah, door technology is quite advanced.”

“Mmn.”  Silvaria was still smiling.  She led them through the small room on the other side of the door, and into a larger chamber farther back.  “This is my exam room,” she explained.  “Like I said, I’m sort of a doctor and healer. . . but sort of a scientist too.  I hope you don’t mind if I study you a little!”

“ _Study_ us?”  It was the first time Loki had spoken in quite a while, and he sounded as if he would mind quite a bit.

“Yes, I mean nothing intrusive!  I just like to examine all the different species I come across, and I’ve never seen either of yours before!”  Silvaria sounded so friendly, Tivan managed to overlook the fact that she was speaking of them as if they were some kind of animal.

“What do you mean ‘either of ours’?” Loki questioned her, his lowered brows narrowed suspiciously.  “How do you know we aren’t of the same race?”

“Oh, it’s obvious!  You’re Asgardian, and he isn’t.”  She turned to Tivan and fairly gushed, “I’ve never seen anything _remotely_ like you before—”

“ _Wait._ ”  Loki actually stepped between Silvaria and Tivan to catch her attention.  “You know I’m Asgardian?  _How?_ ”

“Oh. . . I’m sorry, I’m being rude, aren’t I?  Waverly always says I get too excited over meeting new species.”  Silvaria took a step back and pointed at a sort of low shelf built into the wall.  “Please, sit down.”  As they did so, with Loki leaning his staff against the wall within easy reach, she sat down right on the floor in front of them, smiling up at them.  “I’ve always been fascinated by all the variants of life in the omniverse, and every time I meet someone new, I try to learn everything I can about them.  I also love to read about other lifeforms, so I know about a lot of species I’ve never actually met.  Like yours, Eris,” Silvaria said to Loki, who nodded with some reluctance.  Tivan could tell he still didn’t trust her, but the Collector didn’t particularly care _what_ she wanted to learn about them.  He’d answer any question she asked if it meant staying on the Kythicans’ good side.

“Do you mind if I examine you?” Silvaria was asking them.  That _did_ shake Tivan, at least a little.

“Er, you mean physically?”

“Oh, nothing invasive,” she assured him.  “I just want to have a look.  You won’t even have to take your clothes off.”

“Well, _that’s_ good to know,” Loki muttered.

Silvaria hopped to her feet again and began to look Tivan over.  Her “examination” consisted mostly of her leaning in close and peering into his eyes, poking the pointed tip of one ear, and taking his pulse, although she didn’t use any sort of time keeping device to measure it.  In fact, she used no instruments at all and wrote nothing down, leaving Tivan to wonder just what sort of measurements she could be taking, and if she could possibly remember them all.  If so—if she wasn’t just a harmless sort of crazy—her mind must be phenomenal.

Silvaria did the same things to Loki, then crouched on the floor again and rocked back on her heels as she exclaimed,  “You’re both quite remarkable!”  Although Tivan still felt a bit like a lab specimen, Silvaria was also disarmingly childlike at the same time.  “Very attractive too.  I’d always heard Asgardians were a beautiful species, but _wow_.”  Loki managed to look both flattered and discomfited at the same time, and Tivan had to work to hide a smile.

“Can I ask you some questions now?” she went on.  “About your lifestyles and habits?”

“Of course, my dear,” Tivan murmured, although he did cast a look at the door leading out to the front of the building.  Whatever Waverly was discussing with Kyrie the elder, it was certainly taking a long time.

“Excellent!” said Silvaria.  “So can you tell me about your sexual practices?”

Tivan just stared at her, but Loki exclaimed, “No!  No we can _not_!”

Silvaria blinked, studied Tivan’s faint blush and the way they were refusing to look at one another, then frowned.  “Oh dear, that was rude too, wasn’t it?  I keep forgetting which questions are polite and which aren’t.  It tends to vary depending on which species you talk to.”

“Well, ah, if you were my personal physician, _perhaps_ it would be a normal question,” Tivan stammered, “but. . . it’s not generally something I would tell a new acquaintance.”

“Mmn, I understand.  I’m sorry,” Silvaria murmured, then paused.  “You _are_ lovers though, right?  You did say you were partners.”

“I—er, I meant partners as in _business_ partners.  Associates,” mumbled Tivan.  “I am assisting Eris in locating some items he desires, as well as acquiring things for my own collection.”

As he spoke, Loki had turned to watch him.  Despite the Asgardian’s own outburst, he was smirking at Tivan’s embarrassment, and when Tivan fell silent, Loki looked back to Silvaria.

“ _And_ we’re lovers,” he said.  His smirk turned into a positively smug grin when Tivan cringed.

 “Er. . . yes,” Tivan sighed.  “We are.”

“I thought so.  You make a lovely couple,” the so-called doctor cooed.  “So _now_ can you tell me—”

Tivan and Loki were saved by Waverly, who appeared in the room’s doorway.  Her green eyes swept over them as she announced, “Kyrie said the elders will meet with you, but not until tomorrow morning—it’s getting late now.  We saw your ship arrive, and I assume you can spend the night on board?  We don’t have suitable accommodations for you.”

Tivan might have thought she was merely being inhospitable, but judging from Silvaria’s sparsely furnished “exam room,” Waverly was probably telling the truth as well.

“Yes, my dear,” he acquiesced as he stood up.  “We wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Too late,” grumbled Waverly.

“Be nice, Waverly,” Silvaria scolded her.  She scrambled to her feet.  “And shouldn’t we feed them before they go?  They’re our guests!”

“Uninvited guests,” snapped the red-haired woman, as if Tivan and Loki weren’t even there.

“Don’t listen to her,” Silvaria told the two men.  “We’ll bring you something to eat before you go.  Please wait here, and I’ll return soon.”  Tivan sat down again, albeit rather awkwardly, as Silvaria took Waverly’s arm and pulled her back out of the room.

“This is all ridiculous,” Loki growled as soon as he and Tivan were alone.  “What kind of place _is_ this?  I think they’re all mad.  Mad _and_ impolite.”

“But didn’t you see their reactions when they heard we wanted tesseracts?” Tivan asked.  “I do wish you had kept that information to yourself—but nevertheless, both Waverly and Silvaria acted _very_ oddly.  Not at all like people who _don’t_ have tesseracts hidden away somewhere.”

“Taneleer, they don’t even have _chairs_ ,” retorted Loki.  “And we’ve seen what, seven people in the entire settlement?  One of whom is an insane woman playing doctor, and another who clearly wants us out of here as soon as possible—”

“Oh, come now,” Tivan said.  “Silvaria has been perfectly nice—a little strange, I agree, but nice—and anyhow, they let us keep our weapons.  If they meant us any harm, Waverly would have made us disarm.”

“That’s precisely what’s worrying me.”  Loki shifted to face him, and the concern in his green eyes surprised Tivan.  “It’s as if they don’t _care_ that we’re armed.  As if they know we’re no threat to them—just like your _dear_ Waverly said.”

Bristling at the tone of the Asgardian’s voice, Tivan shot back, “Well, then what do you propose we do?  Turn around and go home without even meeting with the elders?  What if they’re prepared to deal with us?”

“And what if they’re _not_?  How do we know there even _are_ any elders besides that one man with all the hair?”  Loki’s delicate hands had clenched into fists resting on his thighs.  “This place just feels. . . _wrong_.”

Tivan remained silent a moment, staring into Loki’s green eyes and wondering at how Loki believed exactly what he himself had thought about Kythica: it felt wrong.  And yet, despite the wrongness, the Collector was intrigued—not just by the possibility of tesseracts, but by the other beautiful crystals he’d seen, by the colorful inhabitants of the dull brown world.  Tivan had wanted to get away from Knowhere and experience excitement, something different. . . and Kythica was so _very_ different.  To leave without understanding why would feel like a surrender.

He didn’t know how to explain any of this to Loki, and he lashed out instead: “This entire venture was _your_ idea, Loki.  _You_ wanted tesseracts.  _I’m_ doing my best to get them for you.  If you don’t _approve_ of how I’m going about it, there’s an old saying—‘the ends justify the means.’  I’m sure you’ll be satisfied when you have your stack of cubes to play with along with your precious Astridr.”

Loki’s eyelashes flickered as his eyes widened; he clearly was still not used to being talked back to.  “’The ends justify the means’—that’s how you live your whole life, isn’t it?” he challenged Tivan.  “Whatever it takes to build your collection. . . to save your universe.  Yes, I wanted you to find me more tesseracts.  I _didn’t_ expect the two of us to be here at the ends of the galaxy searching for them.  I didn’t know. . . didn’t know you would go this far.”

Tivan tightened his jaw and looked away as he slumped back against the wall and folded his arms.  “What did you _expect_?  I don’t do things halfway, Loki.”

“Neither,” the Asgardian growled, “do I.”

“Then decide what it is you want from me: tesseracts or no tesseracts?  Either we go or we stay, but I’m tired of bickering about it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tivan saw Loki turn away from him as well as he muttered, “We stay.  I want the tesseracts, and I won’t give you the satisfaction of running away, as you seem to think we would be doing if we left.  And you believe all I want from you are tesseracts?”

If he were being honest, Tivan didn’t know _what_ to believe anymore, but being honest wasn’t always in his best interests.  “Quite possibly,” he replied curtly.

Loki made a frustrated noise that was half hiss and half snarl, but he said nothing else, and they sat glaring in opposite directions until Silvaria returned carrying a tray of rather plain-looking food.  The young woman gave them a curious look, and Tivan braced himself for another barrage of disturbing questions.  However, she only held up the tray and smiled.

“Do you mind if I observe while you eat this, and ask you a few more questions?” Silvaria chirped.  “We haven’t even started talking about your nutritional needs yet, and there’s a lot more I could learn!”

Tivan decided he wasn’t very hungry.

\--

To be continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see Waverly, here's a lovely pic of her I commissioned from [Axsens](http://axsens.deviantart.com/)!
> 
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	9. Chapter 9

After Tivan and Loki ate, Waverly reappeared to more or less kick them out of the settlement.  Silvaria called good night after the pair as Waverly escorted them out of the healer’s house, with the boy Abdiel trailing behind them.

“Are you coming back tomorrow?” he asked Tivan.  The Collector glanced down at him; he hadn’t paid much attention to Abdiel and was surprised when the kid spoke to him.  He didn’t look quite as young as Tivan had thought at first—he seemed to be past adolescence, although not by much.

“Yes, we’ve decided to return,” Tivan told him after looking over at Loki.  The Asgardian was following Waverly and glaring at her back, ignoring everything else.  “Waverly said the elders have agreed to meet with us and discuss. . . .”  He trailed off as he realized no one had actually explained just what the meeting with the elders would entail.  “. . . .Um, things.”

“You’re lucky,” Abdiel intoned, hazel-gold eyes wide and serious.  “The elders don’t meet with just anyone.  They won’t talk to _me_ most of the time, except for Kyrie.”

“I don’t think _anyone_ in your little settlement is very talkative, my boy,” Tivan muttered.  “Well, except for Silvaria.”

To his surprise, the previously solemn boy laughed, and his whole demeanor lit up.  “Yeah, Silvaria talks a lot.  She’s fun though.”  He had stopped walking, and Tivan hung back to continue the conversation, thinking that perhaps he could get some kind of information from the kid that would help him in their negotiations the next day.  Waverly and Loki had reached the great wooden door leading out of the settlement and stood waiting on the other two.  Tivan was somewhat amused at the equally impatient expressions in the two sets of green eyes glaring back at him and Abdiel.

“Waverly certainly doesn’t seem like much fun,” Tivan observed.  “At the least, she doesn’t like _us_.”

“It’s just because you’re strangers.  She’s not really as mean as she acts,” Abdiel promised.  At the skeptical look Tivan gave him, Abdiel smiled.  “She’s my sister.  She picks on me sometimes, but really, she just wants to protect all of us.  We don’t get visitors very often, and the last time a stranger came here. . . well, um, it didn’t go very well.  She and Kyrie have been kind of jumpy ever since then.”

Tivan supposed he should have guessed from Abdiel and Waverly’s matching hair that they were related.  When he looked over at the guardian again, she was talking to Loki—or, rather, arguing with Loki, who was snarling something back at her in return.

“Oh dear,” Tivan sighed.  “I suppose I had better intervene before, ah, Eris convinces your lovely sister not to let us back in after all.  Good evening, Abdiel.”  As Tivan hurried over to Loki and Waverly, they broke off their argument, and Waverly gave the door a shove with one pale hand.  The cabochon high above them glowed, and the door swung open as if it were nearly weightless.

“You may return in the morning,” she growled at Tivan, ignoring Loki entirely, “but I can’t promise anything.  It’s up to the elders whether we’ll make any deals with you or not.”

Tivan bowed to her.  “Thank you for your hospitality, my dear.”

“Hmph.  Just get out of here,” Waverly muttered.

Loki stalked out of the settlement without looking back, but Tivan watched the door close behind them and the glow of the cabochon burn out.  When he finally turned away, Loki had already walked off, back toward the gash in the rocky ground where the stream had cut its way down into the stone.  Tivan joined him there at the bank; looking down, he finally saw the water that had eroded the ground so deeply.  The stream was sluggish but reflected the sky beautifully.  Kythica’s sun was setting, and its sky was deepening in color so that the water’s surface reflected a blue almost as dark as the polish on Tivan’s fingernails.

“What were you two arguing about?” Tivan asked Loki when the Asgardian did not speak.

“Nothing.”  Loki’s gaze remained fixed on the stream.

“Loki, don’t be difficult,” Tivan sighed.  “I’ll tell you what Abdiel said—he’s Waverly’s brother.  He told me the settlement is rather on edge because the last time they had a visitor, something troubling happened.  He didn’t say _what_ , but it explains the attitudes of Waverly and Kyrie.”

“Why are you making excuses for them?” Loki muttered.  He finally raised his head to scowl at the Collector.  “If you must know, I asked Waverly outright if they were in possession of any tesseracts.”

“ _Loki!_ ” Tivan groaned.  “I told you how delicate negotiations of this sort are!  You shouldn’t have pressed the issue yet.  If you angered Waverly—”

Loki turned to face him, interrupting by griping, “Just because _you’re_ smitten with her doesn’t mean that _I_ enjoy being strung along!”

“‘Smitten,’ me?” Tivan exclaimed, nearly laughing.  “Just because I treat a lady properly doesn’t mean that—”

“ _Properly_?” Loki interrupted him again.  “I don’t consider there to be anything _proper_ about how you were looking her over!  And anyhow, none of your flirtations has done us the least bit of good—she refused to discuss the tesseracts at all and would say nothing other than that we would have to see the elders.  It’s they you need to impress, not her—unless you’re more interested in another collecting another _conquest_ instead of a tesseract.”

Tivan was staring at him, feeling an odd mix of amusement and anger at Loki’s scrutiny of his behavior.  “My dear boy, are you _jealous_?”

“No!” Loki retorted, altogether too quickly.

“You _are_!” Tivan countered.  “Loki, if I was eyeing anything, it was that fabulous armor of hers—those crystals are probably worth a small fortune.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to _me_ ,” Loki snapped.  Tivan regarded his narrowed eyes a moment, then sighed again.

“Loki, my dear—”

“Don’t call me that.”  Loki folded his arms and looked away, back toward the stream again.  “You called _her_ that too.”

“I call _everybody_ that,” Tivan groaned in frustration.  “What about the _other_ things I call you?  I don’t say them to anyone else. . . not the way _you_ do.”

“Me?”  Loki’s eyes flicked back up to Tivan’s.  “What are you talking about?”

“All the lovely things you say about me—then say about Astridr five minutes later!” Tivan retorted.  “You have no room to say I’m duplicitous!”

“What does Astridr have to do with anything?” exclaimed Loki.

“You’re far more ‘smitten’ with her than I am with Waverly!”

“That—that’s completely different!”  Loki lifted a hand in an inarticulate gesture, then raked it through his dark hair.  “Astridr is a _tesseract_.  Waverly’s just a—a _woman_.”

“Yes, it _is_ completely different,” Tivan countered, “because _I’m_ not in love with Waverly.”

Loki froze, staring at him as he dropped his hand to his side.  “What?”

“Astridr.”  Tivan stared right back at him.  He was sick of dancing around the issue of the tesseract, and he asked Loki point-blank, “Are you in love with her?”

“Taneleer. . . you’re the one who’s jealous, aren’t you?  You’re jealous of _her_.”  Loki’s green eyes were wide, but a faint smile played over his lips at the same time.  “Yes, I love Astridr, but not the way you think.  I love my mother too, although she has departed from me, and I even love my fool of a brother.  And that is the love I have for Astridr, a familial love.”

Tivan felt a twinge of hope in his chest, yet he remained skeptical.  “But how you speak of her. . . her beauty, how there is no one else like her.  That’s how you would speak of—of a lover.”  He was really saying, _That’s how you speak of me._

Loki sighed again as his smile diminished, and he looked at the Collector with what was nearly pity.  “Taneleer, I’m sure you loved your wife.  But didn’t you ever have anyone else, any family or friends you would praise so?  I don’t know how else to explain it. . . not if the only love you ever knew died longer ago than I can even comprehend.”  He turned away from Tivan and paced to the edge of the stream, where the bank fell away sharply to the water below.  “All I can tell you is that I am not in love with Astridr.  Believe me or don’t.  I don’t see why it matters anyway.”

“Oh of course, why _should_ it matter?” Tivan spat before he could control himself.  “It isn’t like I have any capacity for emotion, according to you.”

Loki looked back at him, brow wrinkled.  “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Then what _did_ you mean?” the Collector retorted.  When Loki didn’t respond, only lifted his hands and dropped them again in another helpless gesture, Tivan pushed on.  All the tension he had felt over his relationship with Loki, combined with the strangeness of Kythica and the stress of their tesseract hunt, had come to a head.  For the first time in as long as he could remember, Tivan only wanted to say exactly what he felt with no pretension, no rhetoric to conceal his true meaning.

“My wife died of despair at the thought of an endless future—a future with _me_ ,” he declared.  “Carina died too because of her desperation to escape me.”  It didn’t occur to him that Loki might not know who Carina was; Tivan was too fixated on his own bitterness to think of anything else.  “My presence isn’t worth living for—my absence is worth _dying_ for.  Do you think that I wouldn’t _gladly_ give up all my feeling if I could?”

Loki finally broke in, his voice nearly cracking with anger and frustration.  “I meant only that I can’t explain to you what Astridr is to me, any more than I can understand how you felt when—when _she_ died.  You probably have capacity for emotions I could never even dream of!” the Asgardian raved.  “You’re an Elder, immortal.  But if you haven’t had a family, even a broken one like mine, you can’t understand the place Astridr fills in my heart.”  Loki’s ranting finally calmed, and he looked at Tivan a moment before turning away again.

“When I’m with you,” he muttered, “when you make love to me. . . I meant what I said, I _do_ forget everything else.  I forget Astridr, and Asgard, and that—that I’m not the center of your universe.  When you call me divine, you make me feel like I truly _am_ a god.  When you call me your treasure, I feel like I _am_ , like all the Infinity Stones in the galaxy matter less than I do.  I forget that when I return to Asgard, you’ll be finished _experiencing_ me.  I’ll just be another memory for you to collect, and you’ll—you’ll go on and make love to someone else, someone like Waverly, the same way!” Loki’s voice had remained low and steady as he spoke, despite his occasional stumbling over the words.

“No.  I won’t.”  Tivan made himself match Loki’s tone, made himself remember that he wanted to say what he felt, despite his desire to indulge in another tantrum to hide his vulnerability.  “I hadn’t been with anyone for a long time before you—and after you leave me, I won’t, I _can’t_ —not with someone like Waverly, not with _anybody_.”  He broke off, fidgeting, and looked at Loki, but the Asgardian still refused to face him.

Tivan tried again.  “Loki, you’re the only one I—”

Loki stopped him.  “Don’t.  Don’t tell me that, just to appease me.”

Tivan protested, “I’m not—”

“Taneleer, _don’t_.  _Please_.”  Loki’s head was bent, his whole body hunched and tense as he remained turned away from Tivan.  The Collector fell into miserable silence.  It seemed that no matter what he said, Loki would refuse to believe him. . . or didn’t _want_ to believe him.

_Perhaps it’s easier for him this way,_ Tivan thought.  _Perhaps all he really wants is a temporary liaison. . . an illusion of a relationship so he won’t have to feel guilty when he leaves me._

Finally, Tivan just gave up.  Fighting with Loki never got either of them anywhere: neither of them could ever win.  The Collector muttered, “I’m going back to the ship to rest.  The elders want to meet with us early tomorrow.”  Loki only nodded.

Tivan went to bed alone and slept, but he awoke at some time during the night to find Loki beside him.  He thought Loki was sleeping too until Tivan put an arm around him, and the Asgardian curled in toward the Collector and embraced him.  Tivan felt Loki’s mouth on his and moaned into it, pulling the other man tight against him as they kissed with increasing passion.  After a moment of this, Loki pushed the Collector onto his back and moved on top of him to rub his body against Tivan’s.

“Tan,” Loki hissed when he broke the kiss to caress Tivan’s jaw and neck instead.  “I want you.”

“Nngh. . . .”  Tivan tilted his head back, dropped his hands to Loki’s hips, and held them down as he thrust back up against him.  He supposed he should refuse, considering the argument that had transpired, but Loki was impossible for him to resist.  “I’m yours, my divine prince,” he murmured, then hissed as he felt Loki’s teeth scrape over his throat.

“Yes, I can feel how much you want me,” Loki teased him, working a hand between them to touch him.  “But _I_ want to take _you_ this time—will you let me?”

Tivan would, and did, although “letting” Loki top him was something of an understatement; the Asgardian had him begging for it before they were finished.  Afterward, Loki lay draped over him, breathing hard with his head next to Tivan’s on the flat, uncomfortable pillow.  Tivan held him, hands spread over Loki’s smooth back, and wondered how long the Asgardian would lie there before pulling away from him.

“Loki,” Tivan murmured, turning his head to nuzzle his lover’s dark hair.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Loki chuckled a bit weakly.  “You were fabulous.”

“Don’t be obtuse,” sighed Tivan.  “I’m sorry for. . . oh, _everything_.  For being jealous, for not being able to understand about Astridr.”

Loki sighed too, his breath warming Tivan’s neck as he exhaled.  “No, don’t be sorry for that.  I’m every bit as possessive as you are, Tan, and you were right—I was jealous of Waverly, too.  But considering that you’re in bed with _me_ and not _her_ , I suppose I shouldn’t be.”  He paused.  “Not that I think she would have slept with you anyway.  She didn’t seem to be very fond of either of us.  If _any_ of them would be interested, it would be Silvaria.”

Tivan chuckled.  “I don’t think so—she would just want to watch you and me going at it.  While asking us questions about what we were doing.”

“Mmn,” Loki murmured with a laugh of his own.  “I much prefer having you to myself in private.”

They were both quiet for a moment, and Tivan considered not saying anything more, just going back to sleep with Loki in his arms and not antagonizing the Asgardian by trying once more to tell him what Tivan had wanted to say earlier by the stream.  It _would_ be easier for both of them that way: no guilt, no admission of vulnerability, no _anything_ beyond a purely sexual relationship that would end with them going their separate ways and moving on to other, less challenging lovers.

_Yes,_ thought Tivan, _other lovers who won’t argue or get jealous or manipulate us right back when we try to manipulate them._  Maybe that was what Loki wanted, but Tivan didn’t, not anymore.

He rested his lips against Loki’s high forehead and murmured, “Loki.  I love you.”

Loki didn’t move, didn’t react until he said in a whisper, “No.  You don’t.”

Tivan said nothing more.  By now, he knew that arguing with Loki about that, or about _anything_ , was futile, just as he knew he would never hear Loki say “I love you” in return.  Yet for the first time since his wife’s suicide, Tivan was finally willing to admit he still had the _capacity_ for love, even if it were directed toward someone who wouldn’t return it, and he thought maybe he could be satisfied with that.

\--

They returned to the settlement early the next morning—too early for Tivan, whom Loki had to almost literally drag out of bed.  Neither of them spoke of Waverly, or Astridr, or what Tivan had said and Loki had denied.  And yet there wasn’t anything awkward about their interactions with each other, Tivan noticed; they carried on with their bickering and flirting as if nothing had happened.  He was grateful for that.

Loki and Tivan had armed themselves again, but the Collector hoped they’d put his bag of containment vessels to more use than the electrified spear Loki still carried.  Waverly and Abdiel met them at the gateway to the settlement, although Waverly looked even less happy to see them than she had the previous day.

“The elders are waiting to see you,” she muttered as she ushered them inside the wall then shut the door behind them.  “You’ll find them in that big building in the middle.  Abdiel will go with you to introduce you.”

“We won’t have the pleasure of your company as well?” Tivan asked her, mostly for the chance to goad Loki a bit—he had to admit he was flattered that the Asgardian was jealous over him.

“You may find this hard to believe,” Waverly sniffed, “but my duties protecting this settlement outweigh any importance _you_ two have.  Now stop wasting everybody’s time and go see the elders!”  Instead of jealous, the look on Loki’s face was smug as the two visitors followed Abdiel to the structure at the center of the Kythican settlement.  He seemed to enjoy seeing Tivan getting rebuffed.

“Please be polite to the elders,” Abdiel implored them as they stopped before yet another large wooden door, although this one was plain with none of the giant cabochons Tivan so coveted.

“Of course, my boy,” Tivan reassured him, but Abdiel was mostly looking at Loki.  Tivan too hoped that Loki would be on good behavior, since his charming side would go a lot farther than his arrogant, sarcastic side toward getting them a deal.  Finally Abdiel pushed on the door, and it swung inwards with little resistance.

The building inside appeared to consist of just one open room, lit by skylights in the stone roof which let in some of Kythica’s sun.  The walls on all four sides were lined with graduated benches, similar to the seating in Silvaria’s exam room but with several tiers so that they resembled bleachers in an arena.  In fact, the whole place reminded Tivan of a miniature coliseum or forum.  Three humanoid beings stood in the center of the open floor: a man and a woman Tivan had never seen before, and Kyrie.  Like Kyrie, the two others looked neither old nor young.

Abdiel approached the three with some trepidation, and Tivan remembered what he had said yesterday about the elders’ aloofness.  The boy stopped before them and cleared his throat.

“Um, these are our guests,” he said to the elders, “Eris and Taneleer Tivan.  The Collector,” he added as an afterthought.  Tivan might have been annoyed at that had he not been pondering how the way the boy said their names made it sound like they were married.  Kyrie nodded to Abdiel, but the other two elders only regarded Tivan and Loki with the same sort of skepticism Waverly had shown them.

Abdiel turned to the two guests and spoke to them, sounding much more at ease in conversation with them, who were virtually strangers to him, than with the elders he had presumably known all his life.  “These are the three elders of our settlement.  You’ve met Kyrie.  The lady is Ethyl, and the gentleman is Jude.”

Ethyl was tall and slim, with a beautiful face that would have fit right into Tivan’s high-society circles—particularly with the haughty expression she wore.  The pale irises of her eyes were the same icy blue-white as her hair, which was pulled back tightly into a bun on the crown of her head from which a long braid trailed.  The man named Jude was shorter and stocky but fit-looking, and he had a somewhat more pleasant aspect to him than either Kyrie or Ethyl, yet he still seemed aloof.  His wavy hair came to his shoulders and was an odd shade of yellow-green, while his eyes looked almost pink.  Overall, the three elders made an odd, mismatched trio, and all of them gave Tivan that same feeling of. . . not-rightness he and Loki got from the planet itself.

Tivan nevertheless bowed to them, and after a moment of resistance, Loki inclined his head as well.  Kyrie gave them a slight nod, then looked at Abdiel.  For the first time, his narrow grey eyes softened, though almost imperceptibly.

“Thank you, Abdiel.  Please wait for them.”  The boy nodded and went over to perch on the seating against one wall.  Although he was not particularly short, his feet barely reached the ground when he sat on the high bench.

“Waverly said you had come here in search of tesseracts,” Kyrie said after Abdiel had retreated.

Tivan cast an exasperated look at Loki, but admitted it.  “Yes, and any other items you would like to share with us.  I collect many different types of—”

“Yes, we know,” Kyrie interrupted him.  Tivan had to struggle not to turn the exasperated look on him.  “We have done much research on you since you arrived here, Taneleer Tivan of Knowhere.  And on you—Loki of Asgard.”

Loki made a choked noise of surprise and took a step forward; the butt of his spear hit the stone floor with a clunk as he braced himself on it.  Tivan started as well and stared first at Loki, whose green eyes were flashing, then at Kyrie again.

“I am not—” Loki began, but Kyrie cut him off with as little regard as he had shown Tivan.

“We know exactly who you are.  Both of you.  At least your associate showed us the respect of using his true name,” declared Kyrie.  “You expect us to trust your motives when you lie about your identity?  Although considering what your identity _is_ —”

Finally, someone interrupted Kyrie for a change.  “If you only intend to insult me,” Loki growled, “we’ll end our business _now_.”

“He’s every bit as impatient as I’ve always heard,” Jude said to the other elders, or maybe only to himself; he didn’t seem to be speaking to anyone in particular.  His voice was calm, musing, and completely dismissive, as if Loki were some lesser animal he was observing.  Normally, Tivan might have been amused by that, but he felt rather incensed himself at how the elders were treating them.

“As you’ve heard?” retorted Loki.  “What have _you_ heard of _me_?”

“Everything,” said Ethyl, her voice as cold as her appearance.  “You little fools think we know nothing just because we keep to ourselves?  Or that your tricks will deceive us?”

“Little—just a _moment_!”  Tivan had been able to keep quiet while Loki was taking the brunt of the insults, but calling him, the Collector, a _fool_ was going a step too far.  “If you do not wish to deal with us, say so, but to claim that we have tried to _deceive_ you—!”  Ethyl only arched a thin eyebrow at his outburst.

“Forgive Ethyl her bluntness,” Kyrie said, without sounding very contrite about it, “but with one of you lying about his name, and to know that you are searching for _tesseracts_ —you must admit we have a right to be suspicious.”

“Granted,” Tivan muttered.  “But Loki has his reasons for taking a pseudonym, and they do not affect our transaction.  And he told Waverly from the first that we came here for tesseracts—told her against my wishes, I might add.  Perhaps you would do better to trust _him_ over _me_.”  Loki glanced over at him with a look of surprise followed by a faint near-smile.

“Regardless of whether or not we should trust you,” rebutted Kyrie, “we have no tesseracts here.”

Tivan stopped and stared at the grey-haired elder, as did Loki.  Tivan couldn’t speak for the Asgardian, but the heavy, plummeting sensation in his own chest told him just how much he really _had_ counted on the Kythicans possessing more tesseracts.  In spite of how hard he had tried to remain skeptical, Tivan had believed in Astridr. . . and in Loki’s faith in her.

_Did she lie—was this not her home-world?_ he wondered.  _Or were there tesseracts here at one time, and they’ve all gone?  Or. . . are the elders the ones who are lying?_   Tivan looked over at Loki, who was still staring at Kyrie with his delicate jaw tensed.

“You said you ‘heard’ that there were tesseracts to be found here,” Kyrie continued.  “Just where _did_ you hear such a thing?  As Ethyl said, we keep to ourselves.  You must have worked quite hard to find us.”

Before Loki could say anything about Astridr, Tivan cut in, “A miner on Knowhere said he had been here before.”

“And what made him think there were tesseracts here?” Kyrie persisted.  Tivan glanced at Loki again and found the Asgardian watching him.  The Collector met his beautiful green eyes and gave him a significant look, hoping Loki would get the message to keep his eloquent mouth shut about Astridr.

“He did not say,” Tivan answered Kyrie.  “He was quite inebriated.”

“And you took it on a drunk’s word and made the journey all the way here to Kythica?”  It was Ethyl who spoke then, archly.

“Patience, Ethyl,” Jude murmured, but Tivan answered her anyway.

“Don’t _you_ ever get tired of living confined here on this little planet?  Someday when you are as old as I, you might understand—I wanted to leave Knowhere.  I wanted an _adventure,_ and when Loki came to me asking for my help in finding what he desired. . . we left on that adventure together.”

Kyrie smiled, the first time he had done so since they’d met him.  “When we are as old as you?  Hmn.  Maybe you’re right.  Maybe we _can_ understand.  But Loki of Asgard—you once possessed a tesseract, did you not?”

“Once,” Loki said, speaking as glibly as ever.  “But if you know everything about me, as you say, you’ll know it was taken from me and returned to Asgard by my brother.  Since it is now sealed in the vault there, I’d hoped to find another to replace it.”  Tivan guessed that Loki suspected the elders didn’t _quite_ know everything—like that he was supposed to be dead, or that he was in control of the tesseract again. . . or that she spoke to him and told her she had come from this little brown and blue planet on the edge of the galaxy.

It was a delicate, dangerous game: Loki and Tivan were bluffing, banking on their hopes that the elders weren’t bluffing too.  The sense of wrongness about the trio and Kythica itself troubled the Collector more than ever.  What if the Kythicans _did_ possess more tesseracts—and what if they decided they wanted Astridr too?  What if they knew she had told Loki of their world and wanted to punish her for it?  Loki had said she didn’t want to talk about Kythica—maybe she had escaped from there long ago.  Maybe there was a reason she had left.

_Maybe they’re so hell-bent on “keeping to themselves” they would track down and capture a rogue tesseract to keep her from telling their secret—and if they’d do that, what else would they do to keep **us** quiet?_   Tivan suddenly wished with all of his ancient heart that he and Loki _had_ run away, that they’d never come back to the settlement that morning.  _With at least eight Kythicans here and only two of us, they could overpower us—and no one knows where we are.  Even if I never return to Knowhere, no one could find me—and no one else even knows that Loki is **alive** to come looking for him._

Then, another, more terrible realization: _Loki might not **stay** alive, either.  They can’t kill **me** , but they could silence him forever if they are powerful enough. . . ._

All of these thoughts raced through Tivan’s mind in the few seconds that passed after Loki finished speaking.  Before he could think of any action to take, or any words to say, Kyrie spoke again.

“Then I am sorry to tell you that you won’t find that replacement tesseract here.  However, since your companion did say you were interested in other items, perhaps you two can still find something you wish to buy.  We obviously do little trade here, but occasionally it can be useful to have some credits on hand.”  Kyrie’s hard grey eyes flicked to Tivan, whom the elder apparently saw was the businessman of the duo.  “I trust you _are_ prepared to pay?”

“Of course, of course,” Tivan stammered, bowing slightly again out of sheer relief.  If the worst that would happen was not obtaining tesseracts, he could live with that.

“Abdiel!” Kyrie called.  Before Tivan could even turn to look, the boy had hopped up from his seat and hurried over to the others.  “Take our two guests to my dwelling.  I’ve left some things that might interest them in the front room.  I will trust you to complete the transaction with them, if they wish to buy anything.”

“Oh. . . y-yes, Kyrie.”  Abdiel’s lightly freckled cheeks reddened a bit; he apparently had something of a crush on Kyrie, Tivan realized with some amusement.  _There’s certainly not very much attractive about a man with so little personality. . . but then I’ve gone and fallen in love with **Loki** , so perhaps I shouldn’t judge,_ he decided.

Kyrie had turned back to Tivan and Loki.  “When you have finished, Waverly will see you out of the settlement.  After that, I trust you will depart immediately—and that you will neither return to Kythica nor encourage anyone else to come visit us.  We’re making something of an exception for you two, but we’d prefer not to have other guests turning up.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Tivan assured him.  “As I am fond of saying, I am the paragon of discretion.”

“And _I_ certainly have no interest in returning here, _ever again_ ,” added Loki.  Grasping his electrified spear firmly in front of him, the Asgardian turned to follow Abdiel away.  Tivan gave the elders an abridged version of his bow, but this time not even Kyrie reacted; the three of them only watched him, their faces as expressionless as they were ageless.

“Come on,” Abdiel told the two “guests,” “I’ll take you to Kyrie’s house.”  Loki didn’t speak at first as they went after him, but the Asgardian brushed Tivan’s arm with his free hand as they left the elders’ building.

“So you wanted an adventure,” Loki said softly when Tivan looked at him.  “Was this what you expected?”

Tivan shrugged and managed a little smile.  “Not exactly.  Certainly not that we would have an adventure, as I told Kyrie, _together_.  Or that I’d fail to satisfy your desires.”

“Hmph.  My desires for tesseracts, perhaps,” Loki smirked.  “You haven’t failed in satisfying me in other respects—not _yet_ anyway.”

“Oh?” Tivan retorted.  “Is that a challenge, dearest?”

As they walked faster to catch up to Abdiel, who was already waiting for them at the door of a nearby hut, Loki said, “Oh no, Tan, not at all.  Just my way of saying that I shan’t regret this ‘adventure,’ despite the difficulties we’ve had.”

“No,” Tivan murmured, “neither shall I.”

\--

To be continued


	10. Chapter 10

The hut to which Abdiel led them seemed no different than any of the others; certainly, nothing about it indicated either that it was the dwelling of an elder or that it contained anything that could possibly interest Tivan.  However, when they entered the building—past yet another door with a stone that glowed when Abdiel approached it—Tivan was impressed by what Kyrie had left for them on the bench-like structure against one wall.  There weren’t many items, but his eyes were immediately drawn to several clusters of the crystals he had so admired on Waverly’s armor, in a variety of colors.

As Tivan hurried over to examine the objects, Loki hung back with his arms folded, apparently sulking over the lack of tesseracts.  Abdiel stood to one side and watched Tivan, his hazel eyes alight with interest in the crystals.  Besides those, Kyrie had left one of the cabochons Tivan so coveted, although it was only about the size of his palm.  He hefted it in one hand, a bit disappointed that it did not glow.

 _Still,_ he thought, _it would be an interesting addition to my collection. . . .  Perhaps I could discover how it works eventually._   Then his gaze fell upon a single piece of jewelry: a ring made of golden metal and set with one of the crystals shaped into a squat pyramid.  The crystal was slightly greener than a peridot—the exact shade of Loki’s eyes.

“Loki, come here,” Tivan said over his shoulder.  “You really should get this.”

“I don’t want anything,” Loki grumbled.  Tivan turned around and sighed dramatically in his direction.

“Oh, don’t be petulant.  It’s not a tesseract, but it’s perfect for you,” he told the Asgardian.  Still scowling, Loki went over to him and looked at the ring he held.

“It _is_ lovely,” Loki admitted, “but I did not come halfway across the galaxy for a _ring_.  How much does Kyrie want for these things, anyway?” he asked Abdiel, cutting his eyes sideways at the boy.

“I, ah. . . well, the few times we’ve traded before, the elders have asked for a lot of credits,” Abdiel admitted.  “But you heard, he didn’t tell me exactly how much.  We can, um, negotiate.”

“I see.”  Loki looked back to Tivan and narrowed his eyes.  “They’re trying to buy us off and get rid of us.  You know that, don’t you?”

Tivan shrugged.  “Perhaps, but we may as well take advantage of the opportunity.  Here, give me your hand.”  Loki’s expression was still highly skeptical, but he held out his hand.  Tivan took it in his and slipped the ring onto his middle finger; it was too large for any of the others.

“See?  It’s exactly the color of your eyes, darling,” Tivan murmured.  “As you said, we traveled halfway across the galaxy.  You should have a souvenir.”

“I don’t know. . . ,” Loki hesitated.  Tivan smiled and brought Loki’s hand to his lips to caress his knuckles.

“I’ll buy it _for_ you.”

“Oh, don’t do _that_.  It isn’t the cost,” Loki protested.  With the Asgardian’s hand still pressed to his lips, Tivan raised his eyes to meet Loki’s, then raised his eyebrows.

“I know, it’s not a tesseract,” he murmured against Loki’s fingers, “but for now, it’s the best I can do for you.  Let me give you _something_.”

“All right, all right.  If you insist,” Loki relented, and Tivan was surprised to see him smile as well.  “Although you already gave me that tunic as well.  You’re spoiling me, Tan.”

Tivan finally let his hand go and turned back to the other crystals.  “It’s no more than you deserve.  Here, what do you think of these for my collection?”

“Oh, just go ahead and buy everything.”  Loki gave a sigh mixed with a faint chuckle.  “You know you want to, and you can certainly afford it.”

“Well, if you insist!” Tivan echoed him with a smirk.  “Abdiel, do you suppose Kyrie will agree to that?”

“I-I guess.”  Abdiel had been watching their flirtation intently with a flush to his freckled cheeks, but he hurried over to them when Tivan spoke.

“Excellent.  Hmm.”  Tivan looked at the crystals, pondering the best way to transport them to his ship.  “I suppose we could use the containment vessels for these as well as we could for tesseracts.”  He opened the satchel he still wore over his shoulder and pulled out one of the six containers he’d brought.

“What is _that?_ ” Abdiel asked, leaning a little closer.

“As I said, a containment vessel—I brought them to put tesseracts in, but they are useful for holding any small object possessing a great amount of energy.”  Tivan held up the clear, cylindrical vessel and pressed a button on the bronze underside to activate its energy nullification abilities; then he unsealed the matching cap on the other end and pulled it off.  “It can absorb energy from whatever’s placed inside it.  Now, I don’t _know_ that these crystals give off any energy, but it can’t hurt to—”  He broke off and glared at Abdiel as the boy reached out to touch the narrow tube.  “Be careful!  These are very expen—”

Tivan couldn’t have said what, exactly, happened next.  Abdiel’s fingertips brushed the rim of the vessel, Tivan saw _that_ , but then his vision was obscured by a literally blinding flash of red light shot through with a beam of gold.  Tivan winced and clamped his eyes shut, but he had the presence of mind to hold on to the vessel.  At the same time, he heard Abdiel give a terrible shriek—not a cry of pain, but one of fear.

Then, before Tivan could even open his eyes, Loki’s hand clamped down over his arm as the Asgardian cried, “Taneleer!  Close it, damn you, _close_ it!”  Tivan wondered grumpily just what Loki was yelling about, and why it merited swearing at him. . . until he finally opened his eyes and looked.  He gasped and fumbled to shove the lid of the containment vessel back on, trapping the tesseract that was now inside it.

The only possible explanation was that Abdiel had turned into a tesseract, for the boy was gone, and the glowing cube in the containment vessel could have been nothing _but_ a tesseract.  It was a little smaller than Loki’s tesseract, and it shone with an intense red light like that which had assaulted Tivan’s eyes before.  Through the sides of the red cube, Tivan could just make out a smaller, golden cube inside.  Tivan and Loki both stared at it—at _him_ , at Abdiel the tesseract.  He hadn’t turned _into_ a tesseract, he _was_ one, Tivan realized.  A tesseract who could take a humanoid form.

“Loki,” Tivan whispered.  “I told you these vessels would imprison any tesseract on contact.  He was. . . all along. . . they were lying about there not being tesseracts here.  They lied to protect him.”

“Tan.  _Tan._ ”  Loki actually grasped his chin and turned Tivan to face him.  The Asgardian was beaming.  “Don’t you see?  They’re _all_ tesseracts.  They must be!  That’s why they wanted to get rid of us, before we found out.”

Tivan had known that the Kythicans had wanted to keep their existence a secret, but he had never guessed that _this_ was the reason, that they themselves were the tesseracts he and Loki sought.  _Six vessels,_ he thought, _and we’ve seen seven of them besides Abdiel.  We can’t possibly trap them all, but if we can get some and then escape before the others—_

“Please!”  Abdiel’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.  It sounded just as it had coming from his humanoid form, and Tivan could have sworn he heard it with his ears and not in his mind—yet he didn’t know how sound could escape the containment vessel.  “Please, let me go!”

“He can still talk to us,” Tivan murmured.

“Of course he can.  Just like Astridr can talk to me,” retorted Loki.  For one brief moment, Tivan felt uncomfortable.  Although he had come to believe Loki’s claims that his tesseract was sentient, Tivan hadn’t really considered that they would be capturing living beings.  And while that in itself was nothing unusual for the Collector, he hadn’t done it since the Orb incident.  Meaning, he hadn’t done it since Carina died, Carina whom he had kept in line with threats of adding _her_ to the collection.  Also meaning he hadn’t done it since her foolishness had inadvertently set Howard the Duck free, and Tivan had gotten to know one of his exhibits personally for the first time.  As annoying as Howard could be, amidst all his quacking had been long stories of his life, including a great many involving a girl—a Terran girl named Beverly whom, Tivan suspected, Howard had come to love.

As much as Tivan pondered what Carina had shown him about himself, Howard was the one who had really forced the Collector to consider the lives his exhibits lived before he took them.  And now, here was Abdiel, whom Tivan still had difficulty thinking of as a tesseract.  It was one thing for Loki to hold Astridr in Asgard’s vault; she had been a prisoner with no life of her own for literal ages.  But Abdiel. . . Tivan had seen him _living_ his life with his sister and friends.  Whether he looked like a boy or a crystal cube, Abdiel was a person, and he was begging for his freedom.

“We have to hurry if we’re getting the rest of them.”  Loki’s normally calm voice, now sounding a bit harried, broke into his thoughts.  “We’ve been in here a long time.”

“Are we getting them?”  Tivan turned to look at Loki, speaking louder over Abdiel’s pleading.  “Are we taking _him_?”

“You _are_ developing morals, aren’t you?” sighed Loki.  “As endearing as that is, this is not the time.”  He put a hand to Tivan’s armor-covered shoulder and met his gaze with an intent look in his green eyes.  “Taneleer.  What if something _does_ come to threaten the universe, as you said?  You’ll want a tesseract _then_ , won’t you?”

“Of course.”  Tivan set his jaw, hoping he looked more confident than he felt.  Loki was right, of course; this wasn’t the time to be soft-hearted.  _I can always let Abdiel go later if I change my mind,_ Tivan told himself, _if I make sure he’s the one I take for my collection.  Loki can have the others we capture._   But even that disturbed him.  Was Abdiel more worthy of freedom than Silvaria or Waverly or even Kyrie?  They were adults, but they also served invaluable functions in their community.

Yet Loki was still looking at him with those eyes, the eyes Tivan never had been able to say no to.  _I’d give him Abdiel and all the others besides if that’s what he asked for,_ Tivan admitted to himself. _And he thinks I don’t love him!_

“All right, we’re taking him,” Tivan sighed.  “But—”  He never finished the sentence, because just then the cabochon on the door to Kyrie’s home positively flared.  Both Tivan and Loki turned to look as Waverly flung the door open and stood there, seething.  She still had the form of a humanoid woman—a furious humanoid woman.  Her eyes fixed on the containment vessel that held Abdiel.

“I felt a pulse of energy from here—so _that’s_ why,” Waverly growled.  “You fucking bastards, let him go!”

Loki shifted his electrified spear to a defensive position in front of him and hissed to Tivan, “Give me a containment vessel!  If she _is_ a tesseract, we can capture her.  And if she isn’t, she’s unarmed—”

“No, take this.”  Tivan shoved the vessel holding Abdiel at Loki, and when the Asgardian took it, Tivan pulled out another, empty vessel.  “I’m the immortal one here,” he muttered.  “I’ll catch her.”

Abdiel had commenced wailing for his sister.  “Waverleeeee!  Get Kyrie, _please!_ ”

“This is Kyrie’s fault in the first place,” she all but shouted.  “I told him we should never have—what the _hell!_ ”  Tivan had lunged at her with the empty vessel, trying to touch her with it; just a touch had been enough to imprison Abdiel.  Waverly easily side-stepped the Collector, however, and was giving him an incredulous look.  That glance lasted only a second, for Waverly abruptly transformed just as Abdiel had.  The woman before them appeared suffused with light for a second, though her light was a mixture of greens and pinks rather than Abdiel’s crimson.  Waverly’s glow brightened until Tivan could no longer look at her, and when it dimmed enough for him to see again, she too had taken the double-cubed form of a tesseract.  Her outer cube was nearly clear but with an iridescent sheen to it, and her inner cube glowed a rosy pink.

What’s more, she was _big_.  Whereas Abdiel could have fit in Tivan’s palm, Waverly was easily half as tall as he was.  He stumbled backwards toward the bench where Loki still stood clutching his spear in one hand and Abdiel’s vessel in the other.

“I thought—I thought they were smaller than this,” Tivan stammered.  “Is Astridr—”

“No, she’s Abdiel’s size.”  Loki waved the containment vessel around rather haphazardly, his eyes fixed on Waverly’s glimmering form.  She had begun to rotate, the inner cube and outer cube shifting and somehow taking one another’s places in a way that made Tivan’s brain hurt, as if she were somehow turning herself inside out.  “Perhaps being contained compresses them somehow.  Although what we see when we look at a tesseract is a four-dimensional cube’s projection onto three-dimensional space—since we cannot perceive four dimensions, they only look like regular cubes to us.”

Waverly was not interested in the lesser creatures’ pondering of her true nature.  Instead, she bellowed, “ _Give!  Abdiel!  Back!_ ”

Tivan finally remembered his phaser, and he pulled it from its holster with his free hand.  As he aimed it at the furious tesseract before him, he suggested, “You could just come with him, you know.  We’d keep you two together and—”

“Like fucking hell, _give him back!_ ”  She had begun advancing on them, spinning faster now.  From what Loki had said, Tivan now understood that she was rotating in four-dimensional space; that would account for the seemingly impossible movements of her inner and outer cubes.  Waverly’s light had grown brighter as well, and despite the exquisite, crystalline beauty of her appearance, she was frightening.

Most of all. . . she felt wrong, just as the entire planet of Kythica felt wrong.  _She feels like something that shouldn’t exist,_ Tivan thought, _not in our three-dimensional universe, anyway.  Does Astridr feel like this to Loki?  How can he stand to be near her?_

It was that sense of wrongness, not Waverly’s threatening advance, that made Tivan finally fire upon her—but his phaser had absolutely no effect.  The tesseract simply absorbed the blast.  Tivan had once told Loki that his being immortal didn’t mean he was invulnerable, but Waverly was, apparently.

 _If she can’t be injured, she can at least be contained!_   Tivan steeled himself, then darted forward again with his left arm extended, holding out the containment vessel rather like Loki was holding his spear.  Waverly gave a wordless screech of rage and, more quickly than Tivan’s eyes could even follow, zipped toward him to jab one corner of her outer cube at his arm.

It may not have been the worst pain Tivan had ever experienced in his near-infinite life span, but he couldn’t remember anything ever hurting more.  He gave a wordless screech of his own as the fingers of his left hand abruptly ceased to work.  As they unclenched from the containment vessel, it slipped through them and shattered on the stone floor of Kyrie’s home.  Waverly was still spinning as she drew back, and Tivan saw a great splatter of his blood being absorbed into her cubic form, just as she had absorbed the energy from his phaser.

“ _Taneleer!_ ” he heard Loki screech, but it was hard to even process the sound over the throbbing agony he felt between the elbow and shoulder of his left arm.  Gritting his teeth, Tivan made himself look at it: blood gushed from a wound that stretched all the way across his bicep.

No, not across— _through_.  He finally understood that Waverly had sliced through his flesh like a cube made of razors.  She had passed through his humerus without harming it—some function of his immortality as an Elder protected his bones, he supposed—but she had severed his bicep and tricep completely.  As Tivan dropped his phaser to clutch at his left shoulder instead, he realized he had no feeling in the arm below the wound, nor could he move it.  Waverly had sliced cleanly through all the tendons and nerves, and the only thing keeping his arm from falling off entirely was the unbreakable bone.

For a few seconds, blood had pumped out of the severed arteries above the wound, but then Tivan’s body had sealed the damaged vessels.  Even through the pain, he was able to marvel at how effective it was at keeping him alive, but then he finally realized that immortal or not, he should get out of the way before Waverly attacked him again.  He stumbled back toward Loki behind him, nearly falling as his movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing through him.

 _Don’t faint, not now_ , he told himself as firmly as he could manage.  When he saw the pool of blood left where he had been standing, Tivan felt fainter than ever, and he fixed his gaze on the glimmering tesseract instead.

Loki had quit screaming and was staring at him now.  He dropped his spear—it would have been useless against Waverly, but Tivan was still dimly upset that Loki wasn’t being more considerate of how much it had cost—to grasp Tivan’s trembling shoulder, just above where the Collector’s right hand clutched his upper arm.

“Tan. . . .”

“I’m all right.  Im—immortal, remember?” Tivan muttered.  He wasn’t sure that he really was all right, not at all, but Loki actually looked scared, an expression he had never seen on the Asgardian’s lovely face before.  As stupid as the impulse might be considering the situation, Tivan wanted to reassure him despite how much he hurt.

Loki’s jaw clenched; then he let Tivan’s shoulder go and turned back to Waverly.  She stilled her rotation and glittered, and Tivan himself gasped, as Loki gripped the top of Abdiel’s containment vessel and yanked it off.

“Here!  Take him!”  The Asgardian fumbled for the switch on the bottom that would deactivate the vessel’s energy nullification, but when the search took too long, he simply threw the vessel to the ground.  It shattered alongside the one Tivan had dropped, and Abdiel popped up into the air, free.  The little red tesseract expanded slightly, until he was about a foot across.

“You got him back—now leave us alone!” Loki shouted at Waverly, ignoring her brother as Abdiel shivered and spun, cowering off to one side.  When Tivan started to shiver along with him, Loki put his right arm around the Collector’s shoulders, holding him up.

“It’s too late for that—you should have left _us_ alone!” fumed the tesseract.  “You think I can just let you go so you can come back and try to capture us again?  What kind of guardian would I be?”  She had begun to glow brighter again with a harsh white light.

“Waverly, please, don’t!”  To both Tivan and Loki’s surprise, the cry came from Abdiel.  The smaller tesseract told his sister, “I’m okay, I’m fine!  They didn’t hurt me.”

“Shut up, Abdiel,” Waverly muttered.  “I can’t let them escape!”

“Waverly—”  Before Abdiel could say anything more, Waverly’s glow concentrated into a sharp point of light on one face of her surface, aimed at Tivan and Loki.  While she was still gathering her power, Tivan realized she intended to fire a beam of energy at them like a larger, and likely much more effective, version of his phaser.  He also realized that while such a beam couldn’t kill him, it would almost certainly be fatal to the man at his side.

As Waverly loosed the gathered beam of energy on them, Tivan gritted his teeth against the pain in his arm and bodily flung Loki off of him, pushing the Asgardian back against the bench behind them.  Tivan saw his irreplaceable electrified spear break apart as Waverly’s energy passed over it on the floor, and he cringed as he wondered if his body were going to do the same thing, immortal or not.  Still, he was able to position himself in front of Loki, because the thought of _Loki’s_ body breaking apart was somehow worse.

Waverly’s attack did not break Tivan apart, but it did shatter the armor over his chest and throw him backward against Loki with enough force to push them both across the bench and crush them against the wall.  Tivan’s ribcage, as impermeable as the rest of his bones, held, but the beam of light impacted his chest nevertheless, paralyzing his diaphragm so that for a horrible moment, he couldn’t breathe.  When he was finally able to draw a breath, it felt as if his lungs jutted sideways instead of expanding outward, and his heart throbbed as if it were being compressed.  As the blast of energy dissipated, Tivan feared that Loki had been killed anyway by the force of Tivan’s own body being slammed into him; however, a second later, he felt the Asgardian’s arms go around him from behind, and the side of Loki’s head pressed against his.

“Taneleer!  Tan, are you—”

“I’m—nngh.”  He had started to say that he was all right, but speaking hurt even more than breathing did.  He slumped back against Loki with a groan.

“Waverly, _stop!_ ” Abdiel cried.  He darted in front of his sister who was already beginning to glow again in preparation of firing another beam.  Tivan wondered if she didn’t know that he was immortal, or if she just didn’t care.  At any rate, he doubted he could maintain consciousness through another blast, and Loki. . . .

 _I can’t protect him,_ Tivan thought. _I can’t even do that.  How did I ever hope to save the universe if I can’t even save **him**?_

“Abdiel, no!  Don’t you get it?  They’ll just come back!” Waverly was yelling.  “They’ll keep coming back until they have us all.  They have to die!”

“ _No!_ ”

Abdiel was glowing too, and Tivan believed that for some reason the smaller tesseract was about to attack them despite his protests.  But instead, the beam that came from Abdiel’s red body was more like a window than a laser—a window opening onto Tivan’s very own ship.  In spite of his pain, Tivan whipped his head to the side to stare as the bridge appeared around them where the path of Abdiel’s beam touched, even though he could still see the hut—and Waverly—past the little tesseract’s reach.  Loki’s arms clenched around Tivan tighter as a glow of red light surrounded them and obscured everything outside of Abdiel’s path.

And then they _were_ on the ship, with Abdiel still floating in the air a few feet in front of them.  His glow faded, leaving him looking a bit washed out but otherwise none the worse for wear.

“What. . . .” Tivan managed to rasp.

“I tessered you,” Abdiel said.  “That—that means I, um, transported you back to your ship.  It’s a thing we can do, because your three-dimensional space is curved and—well, you don’t have time for me to explain now!  You have to get out of here before Waverly comes after you!”

Loki didn’t question him.  He laid Tivan down on the floor—not as gently as he might have, but Tivan understood the urgency—and threw himself into the pilot’s chair to start the ship.  Abdiel hovered beside the console, sparkling with a nervous glitter.

“I know you won’t come back,” he mumbled as Loki’s hands flew over the controls, “because you saw what Waverly can do to you.  And you didn’t really want to hurt me.  Did you?  You just. . . wanted me.  That’s how everyone always is.  They want to use us.  But we’re not things, we’re. . . we have these powers, but we’re more than just what we can do.  We’re. . . we’re _people_.”

“We won’t come back,” Loki growled in a tight voice, not responding to anything else Abdiel had said.  “Believe me, we won’t _ever_ come back.”  He had the ship running, and he glanced over at the tesseract.  “Get out of here.  We’re leaving.”

“I’m sorry this happened,” Abdiel told them.  “I liked you.  I wish we _could_ have visitors.  I wish—”  He broke off with a gleam of light as another tesseract appeared outside the ship, so large it nearly filled the front window.  From where he lay on the floor, Tivan squinted against the silvery-grey light it cast; a mauve glow came from its inner cube.

“That isn’t—that’s not Waverly, is it?” Loki muttered.

“N-no, it’s. . . it’s _Kyrie_.”  Abdiel sparkled again and urged him, “You’ve got to hurry—he’s a _lot_ stronger than Waverly is!  Go on—goodbye!  And I’m sorry!”  The little tesseract disappeared, seeming simply to wink out of existence, although Tivan supposed he actually tessered off the ship.

“Shit,” hissed Loki.  The ship lurched as he lifted it from the planet’s surface, but as it drew back from the huge tesseract, Kyrie’s light began to strengthen and gather as Waverly’s had.

“We can’t outrun him,” Loki said over his shoulder.  “And if he’s really that much stronger than Waverly, his attack will destroy the ship.  I can’t—there’s nothing I can do.”  Despite his words, he wasn’t giving up; he turned the small ship away from Kythica, and they shot off from the planet.

“Loki—I’m sorry,” Tivan sighed through the pain in his chest.  “I couldn’t—couldn’t protect you.  I never should have—”

“Tan, shut up and listen to me,” Loki interrupted.  His face was turned away, toward the console, and Tivan could only see his angular profile.  “I—”

He didn’t say anything more, for a fierce jolting sensation rocked the ship.  Loki lurched forward from his chair into the console, and Tivan cringed against the blast he was sure would follow.  He wondered what would happen if the ship dissolved around him.  Would he float in space, in agony but unable to die, until his body healed itself enough for him to function again?  For the first time in his long existence, Tivan wished he _could_ die, so he could escape the pain that awaited him—not only the physical pain but, even worse, the pain of an infinite life knowing that Loki had died because of him.

 _Sorrow killed **her** ,_ he thought, remembering his wife, _and maybe it can kill me too.  That’s something to hope for, anyway._

And then he realized that the ship was still there, although certainly enough time had passed since the impact for it to fall apart.  More than that, _Loki_ was still there, staring out at the dark of space visible in the ship’s front window and trembling slightly.

“Loki,” Tivan gasped.  “What. . . what happened?”

“I. . . I don’t. . . .”  Loki quit staring and worked with the console again.  “We. . . this doesn’t make sense.  The computer is saying we’re nearly on the opposite side of the galaxy from where we were.”

“Oh!”  Tivan let his eyes drop closed and shifted to lie on his back.  His whole body felt limp with relief.  “He tessered us.  Kyrie didn’t attack us—he just sent us very, _very_ far away.”

“I suppose that’s the most effective way of dealing with _you_ ,” Loki murmured.  “He knew he couldn’t kill you, so he chose to. . . displace you.”

Tivan finally marshalled enough energy to try to sit up.  He groaned with the pain and effort it took, until Loki turned to scold him.

“Don’t try to move by yourself, you fool.  Let me help you.”  He got up and, putting his arms around Tivan, helped him to his feet so he could stagger over to collapse in the co-pilot’s chair.

“I’ll use the computer to find the nearest inhabited planet,” Loki went on, “and find you a doctor.”  He let Tivan go without meeting his eyes and sat in the pilot’s seat again to use the console.  As Tivan watched him, he saw Loki scrub the back of his hand over his eyes in an impatient gesture.  The Collector stared at him, and at the moisture glistening on his cheeks.

“Loki?  Did Waverly—hurt you?”  When Loki cast him a distracted look, Tivan rasped, “You’re. . . you’re weeping.”

Loki gave a short, bitter laugh despite the tears that were already drying.  “No, she didn’t hurt me.”  He didn’t speak again for a moment, until he had finished with the computer.  “We’re in the Rigel system.  We should reach the nearest planet in just a few minutes.  Are you in very much pain?”

“Yes,” Tivan said with what would have been wryness if he had felt a bit better.  “But I. . . I. . . .”  He trailed off as his head began to swim, and his right arm—the only one he could feel—suddenly seemed cold and bloodless.  “I do believe I’m about to faint.”

“No!”  Loki jumped up from his chair again and knelt against the front of Tivan’s.  He started to grab the Collector by the shoulders, then drew back at the sight of his injured arm and instead flapped his hands in a useless but rather comical gesture.  “Tan, don’t!”

But Tivan did, and his last thought was that losing consciousness for a while sounded positively glorious.

\--

To be continued


	11. Chapter 11

Tivan knew he was dreaming because he was sitting in a seedy bar, drinking with Howard the Duck.  In fact, it was the same bar where he’d found the miner who had been to Kythica—in other words, a place where Tivan would never _choose_ to go and drink.  Howard didn’t seem to mind the dark, smoky air, or the smudges on their glasses, or the fact that his webbed feet came nowhere near to reaching the filthy floor and looked quite ridiculous dangling from his bar stool.

“My arm hurts,” Tivan muttered as he scooped up his glass in his other hand and tilted his head back to drain it.  He couldn’t even identify what liquor was in it, only that it was something hard and nasty-tasting, again nothing he’d knowingly pick to drink.  But it was alcohol, and what’s more it was a dream, and although he couldn’t quite remember why, Tivan didn’t want to wake up.

“Quit yer bitchin’, Whitey,” Howard shot back.  “It’s just a scratch.”  The duck took a shot, shuddered, then slammed his glass back down on the bar and quacked, “Hit me again,” at the bartender.  Then he turned on his stool to face Tivan.  “Did I ever tell ya they made a movie about me one time?  On Earth?  Or Terra, or whatever the hell it’s called.  Yeah.  _Terrible_ movie.  Bet _you_ were never in a movie.”

“You’re lying.”  Tivan’s glass was half-full again, although he hadn’t seen the bartender fill it.  Not such a bad dream, then, even if he _was_ having to put up with Howard.  “No one would ever watch a movie about _you_.”

“Like I said, it wasn’t a _good_ movie.”  Howard swung his feet back and forth.  “Bev was in it too, but the actress who played her wasn’t near hot enough.”  He sighed.  “Wonder where Bev is these days, anyway.  Sometimes I really miss that girl.”

“Don’t start,” Tivan groaned.  Not only was his arm hurting, his chest was aching as well.  He couldn’t quite remember what had happened.  Had he gotten in a fight?  Maybe that was it, he’d gotten in a bar fight—now _that_ was amusing, the illustrious Collector getting in a bar fight.  Not that it mattered; it was just a dream.

“Hey, cut me some slack,” snapped Howard.  “ _You’re_ always whining about whats-his-face.  You owe me.”

Tivan protested, “Wait, do you mean Loki?  I do _not_ whine about. . . .”

He trailed off as the dream changed.  Tivan was lying in bed—quite a comfortable bed, too—and the pain in his arm had become a dull ache that barely registered.  He looked back over in Howard’s direction, but the duck was gone.

“Howard?” Tivan mumbled.  “Where did you go?”

“Who’s _Howard?_ ”  The voice that spat the words belonged to Loki himself.  Tivan groaned and closed his eyes again.  He really didn’t feel like fighting with the Asgardian, even in a dream.

“The duck,” he mumbled.

“The. . . are you delirious?  Or is it just all the drugs she gave you?”

Tivan opened his eyes again to see Loki sitting on the bed beside him and leaning over him, a bemused expression on his pale face.  They were in a room whose predominant color was white, and Loki was all Tivan could really see other than a harsh glare surrounding them.  The Collector realized he wasn’t dreaming anymore after all, and he managed a faint laugh through the mental haze he felt.

“No, Howard the Duck.  You. . . you met him.  The feathered fellow with the drink.”  Tivan blinked with an effort and tried to focus on the lovely green eyes peering down at him.  “I dreamed I was talking to him.  Rather a nightmare, I suppose.  What. . . where are we?”

Loki’s brows shifted slightly upward, a tiny motion that nevertheless expressed relief.  “You’re in the home of a healer on the planet Moana, in the Rigel system.  I don’t know how much you remember, but right before you fainted, I told you I was taking you to the nearest planet.  Well. . . Moana was it.  Something of a backward place,” Loki added, scowling and looking towards what might have been a window, as it was the source of the glare that so irritated Tivan’s eyes.

“It’s daytime, isn’t it?” Tivan grumbled, squinting.  “I told you how I prefer night time.  This is why.”

“Yes, it’s daytime, and this is an exceptionally bright planet,” Loki replied.  “All water and white sand and reflective rocks.  But you told me about it before, don’t you remember?”

“Did I?”  Tivan wished Loki would quit looking out the window and look down at him again instead.

“Yes, when you were showing off your silverware.”

“Oh.  Yes.  They have the oyster beds here.”  Tivan sighed and shifted on the bed, wincing when pain flared in his arm and chest.  “Loki?  Tell me what happened after I fainted.  I feel so. . . so _groggy_.”

“The healer gave you painkillers.  A _lot_ of painkillers.”  Loki finally looked at him again, and Tivan was pleased to see his familiar smirk had returned.  “Apparently, it’s very hard to keep an immortal Elder unconscious.  She also sewed up your arm.  But she said you’re healing very quickly, and it’s already. . . ah, _reattaching_ itself.  She was quite amazed.”

“I’ll have a hideous scar though,” Tivan grumbled.  “Perhaps I should consider getting a tattoo.”

“Never mind that.”  Loki’s smirk faded.  “What matters is that your arm’s still _there_.  And all your ribs, although the healer claims your lungs are bruised and your heart must be enclosed in adamantine to have not been crushed by that—that tesseract _bitch_.”  Despite his drowsiness, Tivan managed to raise an eyebrow at the way Loki’s face had shifted into a glower.

“You aren’t still jealous, are you, dearest?”

“Taneleer, she tried to _kill_ you.”  Loki looked away again, turning his head so that all Tivan could see was his profile.  “She _would_ have killed you if you were anything less than immortal.”

“We were trying to take her brother away from her,” Tivan sighed.  “You were right when you said I don’t know what familial love is like, but I can imagine.  What if I told you I intended to capture _your_ brother and put him in my showroom?”

“I’d say you could have him,” Loki retorted, but then his smile returned, faintly.  “Anyhow, the healer—her name is Tavia—wants you to stay here overnight and rest.  Barring any complications, you should be well enough to travel in the morning, as long as you remain quiet on the ship.”  Tivan nodded and closed his eyes again.  Resting sounded like a lovely idea, and maybe his dreams would be more pleasant this time.

“Where are we traveling to?” Tivan mumbled.

“I’m taking you home.”

“Your home?  To Asgard?”

“No.”  Loki sounded amused.  “Knowhere.”

“Nowhere?  What are you. . . oh.  _Know_ here.”  Tivan groaned to himself.  “What a terrible pun.”

“ _You_ named it, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes, at the time I thought I was being clever.  But it’s really quite awful.”  He smiled when he heard Loki’s chuckle.  He liked making Loki laugh, almost as much as he liked making Loki moan and whimper and scream his name. . . .

“Mmm,” Tivan mused in a sleepy whisper, “I wish instead you’d take me home with you to Asgard. . . make me your queen. . . .”

Loki laughed outright then.  “You rather _are_ my queen, already.”  He leaned down, and Tivan felt his lover’s lips brush his temple when he whispered, “ _Drottning minn._ ”

“What’s that mean?”

“‘My queen,’ of course.  Now go back to sleep and heal.”

“Will you stay with me until then?” Tivan murmured.

“Of course.”  Loki pressed a kiss to his forehead and whispered, “ _Ek ann ther._   That means, ‘I love you,’” and the Collector decided it must all be a very beautiful dream after all.

\--

When Tivan awoke next, someone was moving his arm, and it hurt.

“Nnngh,” Tivan groaned and dragged his eyes open.  A set of green eyes was looking back at him, but it wasn’t Loki’s; these eyes were the color of olives and had narrow, horizontal pupils.  They belonged to a feminine face with round cheeks and a cutely pointed chin.  A pert little mouth smiled.

“Oh, you’re awake!”  The face turned aside as its owner did something else to Tivan’s arm.  Evening must have fallen, for the room was now lit by a cozy glow coming from a lamp somewhere, rather than the glaring sun.

“ _Ouch_ ,” he grumbled.  “Please stop that.”

“I’m sorry it hurts, but I have to check for signs of infection.  You’re healing so fast, I’m not too worried, but still. . . .”

Tivan winced and closed his eyes again as the girl, who must be the healer Loki had mentioned, prodded and did all sorts of other painful things to his arm.

“Are you really immortal?” she asked as she worked.  “That’s what your friend said, and I suppose it _must_ be true for you to have survived the sort of injuries you’ve sustained, and for them to heal so quickly, but I’ve never met a true immortal before.”  Her rambling, not to mention her fascination with him, reminded him of Silvaria.

“Yes, it’s true,” he sighed.  He hauled one eye open again to look up at her profile.  She had blond hair pulled into a looped ponytail at each side of her head, and she looked very young to be a doctor.  “Did you examine Loki—my, er, friend—for injuries?  He said he wasn’t hurt, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he were lying.”

“I tried.  He wouldn’t let me.  He’s a stubborn bloke, you know that?”

“Believe me,” said Tivan, “I know.”

“My name is Tavia, by the way,” the healer went on as she finally began wrapping a bandage around Tivan’s wounded arm.  “You’re. . . what was it?  Tanner?”

“Taneleer.  Taneleer Tivan.  Aren’t you finished yet?” he griped.  “And can’t you give me more of those painkillers I had earlier?”

“Yes, I’m finished.  And no, I can’t—I mean, I _could_ , but you’ve had an awful lot.”  Tavia sat back a bit—Tivan was a bit disconcerted to realize she was perched next to him on the bed—and regarded him with what she probably meant to be a stern expression in her odd eyes.

“My dear,” growled Tivan, “on any given day, I probably consume stronger drinks than those painkillers.  I’ll be fine.”

“Hmph.”  She folded her arms across her chest and turned up her little nose.  “In that case, maybe I _shouldn’t_ let you go home tomorrow.  You probably need to detox.”

Tivan barely heard her; he was distracted by the two things he had noticed when she crossed her arms: she was rather on the buxom side, and her arms were actually tentacles.  Instead of hands, they ended in flexible tips bearing four suckers each.

“Anyhow, you’ve been sleeping all day,” Tavia was going on, “so I’d rather you stay awake for a while.”  She lost the attitude and smiled at him abruptly.  “And I was kidding.  Really, you _are_ healing well, so you can leave in the morning.  Your friend is anxious to get home.”

“I’m sure,” Tivan murmured.  Of course he was; their venture had been a failure, after all, and Loki had a tesseract of his own to return to.  “Where _is_ Loki, anyhow?”

“I kicked him out—he’s been sitting in that chair brooding all day.”  Tavia pointed a tentacle at a chair in one corner of the room, near the bed.  “I made him eat something, but I think he went outside.  Actually, you should eat something too.  And drink something—something _not_ alcohol,” she added sternly.

“I’m not hungry,” protested Tivan.  He pushed himself up into a sitting position using his right arm, trying not to wince at the pain he felt in his chest.  “I want to see Loki.”

“Now wait just a minute!”  The healer reached out to grasp his shoulder and hold him down.  “I’ll go fetch him, if you—”

“I am _fine_.”  Tivan brushed her tentacle aside and swung his legs slowly to the side of the bed.  “And if you want me to stay awake, I’ll need to get out of this bed.”

“You’re quite the stubborn bloke yourself, aren’t you?” Tavia sighed.  “All right, all right, go on.  But you’re eating something when you come back in.”  She stood and made him wait while she cradled his injured arm in a sling, then offered a tentacle to help him up.  As Tivan took it and hauled himself to his feet, hoping he was hiding how much he hurt, he noticed six more tentacles, in the place of legs, emerging from beneath the hem of Tavia’s blue skirt.  Somehow, she was able to stand on them.

“You’re all right to walk?” she asked when Tivan let her go and moved stiffly to the wooden door of the little room.

He said as firmly as he could manage, “Yes, thank you.”

Tivan had almost reached the door when Tavia said, “You know, he was very worried about you.”

That stopped Tivan, and he looked back at her.  “Truly?”

She nodded solemnly, but her little mouth twitched in a suppressed smile.  “Truly.  He wouldn’t leave you until I promised I would stay with you until he returned.”

Her words made Tivan realize he was acting rather ungrateful, and he managed an abbreviated version of his bow.  “Thank you for your care.  I promise to make it worth your while before we leave.”

Tavia folded her arms again and smirked.  “Promise me you’ll eat your dinner and behave yourself, first.”

Tivan found himself smiling.  “I think you’re every bit as stubborn as we are, my dear.”

The rest of Tavia’s home was small and tidy.  The front door opened upon an expanse of white sand, and beyond that lay a blue-green ocean.  Moana’s sun, Rigel, had indeed set, but the remnants of its light reflected off some low-hanging clouds and gave enough brightness for Tivan to see by.

Loki was standing near the water a bit to Tivan’s left, his back to the house.  Tivan trudged toward him through the sand, watching the ocean’s breeze lift the dark strands of Loki’s hair that fell on his shoulders.  The Asgardian heard him when he drew near and turned.

“Taneleer!  You shouldn’t be out here,” Loki scowled, but he came forward to meet Tivan and stood beside him as the Collector looked out over the water.

“You sound like that octopus girl in there,” Tivan muttered.

“‘That octopus girl’ has taken very good care of you,” retorted Loki.

“I know, I know.  And I thanked her.  However, I _would_ prefer to be on my way home right now. . . and she told me you felt the same,” Tivan couldn’t resist pointing out.

“Yes.”  Loki regarded the ocean as well.  It was lapping gently at the sand, not crashing in hard waves as Tivan assumed most oceans did.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a beach, though, and of course, every sea on every planet was different.  There were no signs of oyster beds like those maintained by the Moanan cult, which disappointed him.  _I would have liked to see them,_ Tivan thought.  _So rarely do I get to visit where my treasures come from. . . ._

“I’ve been gone from Asgard too long already,” Loki was saying.  “I don’t know how many of our days it’s been, and when I left, I never meant to be away for so much time.”

“Astridr will be worried about you,” said Tivan.  He dropped his gaze from the water, but his eyes were caught by Loki’s hand, hanging at his side between them.  Tivan smiled as he grasped it and held it up to the fading light.  “You got away with the tesseracts’ ring, so this venture wasn’t a _total_ loss.”

“Mmn.  I suppose not.”  Loki’s eyes regarded the crystal which matched their color, then flicked up to Tivan’s face.  “Taneleer, you’re always telling me you’re sorry for one thing or another, and I’ve never reciprocated.  But all of this—it happened because of me.  I used you, and I’m sorry for it.”

“Loki.”  Tivan dropped Loki’s hand and laid his fingers along the Asgardian’s jaw instead.  “I knew exactly what I was doing.  I’ve never been able to tell you no—I’ve never _wanted_ to.  If you used me, I let you do it.”

“You _do_ love me, don’t you?”  Loki’s voice had fallen to a near whisper.  “I thought you were lying.”

“Yes.  I love you,” Tivan told him.  Holding Loki’s head still, he leaned forward to kiss the Asgardian without being entirely sure that Loki would allow it.  But Loki did, and he brought his own hands up and laced his fingers into Tivan’s hair as he opened his mouth and met Tivan’s tongue with his own.  The kiss was as slow as their first real kiss had been back on Monori, but deeper and with more behind it.  Tivan forgot the ache in his chest and arm for as long as Loki kissed him.

Loki touched his cheek to Tivan’s, and his lips brushed the Collector’s ear as he murmured, “You infuriate me, and then you drive me mad with desire for you.  And no matter that I know you cannot die, I thought Waverly was going to destroy you when you took her attack for me.  You have my heart, Taneleer. . . for whatever that’s worth.”

“It’s worth more to me than anything else in the galaxy, my treasure,” Tivan whispered in return.  He moved to kiss Loki again, but Tavia’s voice broke in as she gave a shrill call from the house.

“It’s almost dark!  Get back in here before I have to come and get you!”

The two men walked through the sand, back up to the house.  Tavia situated Tivan at a round table in her kitchen and insisted he eat dinner, which proved to be a bowl of the same stew Loki said he’d eaten earlier.  Tivan tasted it reluctantly, and failed to hide his surprise when he found it decent, if not especially delicious.

“I used to work for a cook,” Tavia informed him, “so I do know how to prepare food.  You just might not want to know what’s in it.”

“I wasn’t planning on asking,” Tivan muttered.  He managed to eat enough to satisfy her, although he was distracted by the increasing throb in his arm.  Finally, Tavia insisted that he wash up and go back to bed.

“You shouldn’t get your arm wet, though,” she told him as she herded him into a tiny bathroom.  Tivan hadn’t been entirely certain that she even had indoor plumbing, judging from the rather primitive look of the rest of the house, so he was relieved to see the small bathtub.

“Do you want me to help you?” Tavia asked cheerfully.  Tivan eyed the curvaceous young woman—and all those tentacles—and swallowed hard.

“Er—”

“I’ll do it,” Loki interrupted coolly from where he was standing just outside the doorway.  Tivan looked at him with a smirk, Tavia with surprise.

“Well, if you’re sure.  Just be careful with him!” she cautioned Loki as she squeezed past him out of the bathroom.  “And don’t take too long.  Taneleer needs his rest!”

“I’m sure he does,” Loki murmured with a smirk of his own.  He came in and closed the door, then began to unzip Tivan’s shirt.

“What happened to my armor?” Tivan asked, thinking of it for the first time.

“It’s back on the ship—I took it off you after you passed out,” Loki told him as he opened the shirt and worked it off of Tivan’s good arm.  “I’m afraid it’s probably useless now.”

Tivan opened his mouth to reply, but he forgot what he was about to say when he saw the reflection of his own bare chest in the small mirror on the wall.  His skin looked to be nearly all one huge bruise, colored a deep, ugly purple.

“Good heavens,” Tivan muttered.  He glanced up at his face, which appeared uninjured but exhausted.  “I look horrendous.”

“This is why Tavia warned me to be careful with you.”  Loki touched Tivan’s breastbone lightly and trailed his fingers down his chest, then began to untie the sling on the Collector’s wounded arm with careful movements.  “I’ll try not to hurt you.”

Tivan winced when Loki removed the sling, and he saw his arm.  The sleeve of Tivan’s shirt had been severed by Waverly’s sharp edge, just as his arm almost had been.  Below the fraying edge of the fabric up near his shoulder was the wound.  Its reddened, angry-looking edges were held closed by Tavia’s thick, black stitches. . . but then Tivan realized that he _could_ feel his fingers now, and he gave them an experimental wiggle.  His nerves and blood vessels had already completely reattached themselves.

It all still looked hideous though, and Tivan sighed, “I’m amazed you can stand to look at me in this state.”

“Your vanity knows no bounds,” Loki muttered.  “Your appearance is the least of my concerns right now.”  He dropped his hands to Tivan’s waist to unfasten his pants.  “And don’t get any ideas about what I intend to do with you,” the Asgardian added just as Tivan was about to comment.  “I’m washing you off, then you’re getting right back in these pants and into bed.”

“Normally, I would try to convince you otherwise,” Tivan told him, “but I’m afraid I’m in no condition to appreciate your attentions, anyhow.”

Loki glanced up at him with a faint smile then knelt to work Tivan’s pants down his legs.  “If you heal as quickly as Tavia believes you will, you’ll be begging me for it by the time we get back to Knowhere.”

With Loki’s assistance, Tivan managed to settle himself in the tub, where the Asgardian ran warm water and washed him off quickly.  The heat of the water, combined with Loki’s touch, felt exquisite, but it made Tivan drowsy despite the pain in his arm.

“I’ll do a better job when we get you home,” promised Loki as he helped Tivan back out of the tub before the Collector could be tempted just to sleep right there.

“Well, that will give me something to look forward to, my prince,” Tivan said around a yawn.  He managed to dry himself off without too much aid from Loki; then the Asgardian got him dressed in his pants again and took him to the bedroom.  He didn’t bother with Tivan’s ruined shirt, which left the Collector to avoid looking down at his chest and arm.  No matter how much Loki reassured him, he didn’t like to see the condition of his body.

Tavia was waiting on them, and she insisted on looking over Tivan’s arm one final time after he’d gotten into bed.

“You’re still healing well,” she told him.  “Still, I’d better stay with you tonight, just to be safe.  I’ll be back after I arrange a bed for Lo—”

“I’ll stay with him,” Loki interrupted her.  Tavia looked surprised again, and she studied the pale, angular face looking sternly back at her; then she folded her arm-tentacles across her chest.

“You’re going to destroy your back spending the night in that chair,” she scolded Loki, “but if you insist, I won’t argue with you.  My bedroom is on the other side of the house—come fetch me if he needs anything.”

“As a matter of fact, I do need one thing,” Tivan said as politely as he could managed.  “May I _please_ have more painkillers now?”

Tavia’s severe expression melted into a smile, and she laughed, “All right, I won’t argue with _you_ either.  Right now, you need rest more than anything else, and you’ll sleep better if you aren’t hurting.”

She injected Tivan’s shoulder just above the wound with something that almost immediately took the edge off his pain.  Tavia handled her syringe as deftly as anyone with a hand and fingers could have done, curling her arm tentacle around it, gripping it with the suckers, and pushing the plunger with the tip.  Soon, a glorious numbness seeped down Tivan’s arm, and even the soreness in his chest dulled somewhat.

“That stuff is miraculous,” Tivan yawned, tilting his head back onto a pillow which was a thousand times fluffier and more comfortable than the ones on his ship.  “Can I take some home with me?”

“Hmph, I’m not going to be responsible for you developing an addiction,” Tavia sniffed.  “You can take enough to keep you comfortable until you get where you’re going, but you’re on your own after that.  Loki, I’ll show you how to give him the injection in the morning.”  She started for the door, leaving Tivan in bed and Loki sitting back in the chair, legs crossed, but then Tavia stopped and looked back at them.

“And _do_ try to keep your hands off each other, at least for tonight.”

Loki stiffened and gave her an indignant glare.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tavia giggled, “If I hadn’t seen you two kissing out there, I would have known when you wouldn’t let me bathe Taneleer or spend the night with him.  Just take it easy for a little while, okay?”

“ _Go,_ ” Loki growled.  When Tavia finally withdrew, he turned off the lamp and sat down next to where Tivan lay on the bed.

“If you don’t mind,” the Asgardian murmured as he smoothed the blanket over Tivan’s chest, “I’d prefer to spend the night in the bed with you than in that chair.  Though I’ll be ‘keeping my hands off you,’ of course.”

“I do believe there’s room for you.”  Despite Tavia’s warning, Tivan caught Loki’s hand and brought it to his lips to caress his fingertips then suck two into his mouth.  He was gratified to hear Loki make a slightly choked noise before he pulled his hand away.

“Stop that,” he breathed as he pushed off his boots and stretched out beside Tivan, pushing his long legs between the sheets.  “You heard her—you need _rest_ more than anything else.”

“Mmn, and how am I supposed to rest with you so close to me?” Tivan whispered. . . and then yawned.

“With those painkillers you kept begging for, apparently,” teased Loki.  “Go to sleep, Tan.”

Tivan nodded drowsily and closed his eyes.  As usual, Loki lay beside him without touching him; still, the Asgardian’s presence alone was soothing.  Tivan knew they wouldn’t be together much longer, but he was able to forget that while he luxuriated in the relief Tavia’s injection had brought him, and in the sound of Loki’s quiet, even breaths as the Asgardian waited for sleep.

\--

To be continued


	12. Chapter 12

When Tivan awoke, the blasted sun was glaring into the room again.  He groaned and clenched his eyes shut as he assessed his condition.  Everything still hurt, although he thought he had gained flexibility in the fingers of his left hand when he tried wiggling them.  He couldn’t feel his _right_ arm, however.  After a moment, he realized this was because Loki was lying on it, and it had gone to sleep.

“Loki,” he whispered, nuzzling the Asgardian’s hair.

“What.”  Loki’s face was pressed against Tivan’s shoulder, and he didn’t sound as if he wanted to wake up.

“You’re crushing my arm, darling.”

Loki mumbled something and rolled away from him.  Tivan extracted his arm and shook it a bit, then snaked it around Loki and pulled the Asgardian back against him.  Loki made a token attempt at resisting before curling along Tivan’s side and even going so far as to slip his own arm along the Collector’s waist.  Tivan stroked his lower back, and Loki arched into his touch like a cat.

“I’m sorry about your arm, but I’m used to sleeping alone,” Loki murmured into Tivan’s neck.

“Good.”  Tivan put his hand to Loki’s hair and drew his fingers through it.  Loki shifted onto his side and lifted his eyes to Tivan’s.

“And I’ll _keep_ sleeping alone,” the Asgardian said, “when I’m not sleeping with you.  If you are concerned about that.”  Tivan looked into the green eyes regarding him, wide and serious, and smiled then kissed the high, pale forehead above them.

“As will I, my love.”  Tivan tried to lift his injured arm to hold Loki with that too, but it hurt too much.  He gave up and instead spread his right hand along Loki’s back to keep the Asgardian against him.  “‘When you’re not sleeping with me’. . . does that mean you’ll come back to see me after you return to Asgard?”

“Of course it does,” Loki muttered indignantly as he turned his face back against Tivan’s shoulder.  His lips brushed the Collector’s skin as he continued grumbling.  “Did you really think I would say what I said to you and then never see you again?  I do have some concept of honor, you know.”

“Then you really do love me?” Tivan half-teased.  He nuzzled Loki’s silky hair with his lips and trailed kisses along his brow.  “I thought perhaps I’d dreamed it.”

Loki made a sort of growling noise in frustration.  “Do I have to say it _again_?  It’s not something easy to say.”

“With your command of words, I do believe you can manage it.”  Tivan rather enjoyed being merciless, and he added, “Yes, you have to say it again, or I won’t be convinced.”

“Ugh.  _Fine_.  I love you, you ridiculous man,” Loki groaned.  He raised himself up on his elbow and looked down at Tivan.  Loki trailed a fingertip along the edge of Tivan’s ear as he murmured, “I don’t think I’d be able to keep away from you even if I wanted to.”

Tivan put his hand to the back of Loki’s head and was about to coax him down into a kiss, when Tavia’s voice broke in from just outside the door.

“Are you two awake?  Breakfast is ready!”

“We’re awake _now_ ,” Loki called back with a scowl.  He granted Tivan a brief, closed-mouth kiss then got out of bed.  “Shall I help you up?”

“No, let me try on my own.”  Tivan pushed himself up into a sitting position using his good arm.  His chest still felt stiff and sore, and if the bruises had changed at all, they had only gotten darker and uglier.  Tivan’s sigh of disgust turned into a groan of pain when he turned to hoist himself up to his feet.

Loki folded his arms and gave Tivan an impatient look.  “ _Now_ shall I help you up?”

“ _No_ ,” Tivan grumbled.  He got to a standing position and stretched his good arm gingerly.  “Could you help me with my shirt, though?”  Loki did, and he put the sling back around Tivan’s injured arm before they joined Tavia at her table.

“How are you feeling?” she asked Tivan as she set bowls of food down in front of them.

“Much better, my dear,” Tivan lied fluidly, afraid that she might insist he stay on Moana longer if he complained about how much he was hurting.

“Hmm, that’s good.”  Tavia poured tea for them then sat down at the head of the rough-hewn wooden table with her own meal.  “I’ll take one more look at you before you set off for home, but with your remarkable body, you should heal just fine.”

“‘Remarkable body’?  What a charming compliment,” Tivan crooned with a smirk before he turned to his breakfast.  It hardly looked appetizing: some kind of porridgey substance with a fish fillet on top.

“You know exactly what I meant,” Tavia returned.  Loki scowled at Tivan, then at his meal.

“Is that fish?” he asked with disdain.

“Yes, this _is_ an ocean planet,” said Tavia.  “We eat a lot of it.”  Loki turned his scowl on her before beginning to eat around the fish.  Tivan found it to be rather good, although the bland-looking stuff under it wasn’t porridge after all; it was grittier and not as sweet.

After they ate, Tavia looked over Tivan’s injuries one final time, and she showed Loki how to administer the single syringe of painkillers she was letting them take with them.  Finally, to Tivan’s great relief, she proclaimed him fit to travel.

“Your stitches can come out in a couple of standard days,” she told him; then she looked at Loki.  “I know _you_ will want to do it yourself, but take him to a medical establishment, just in case there’s a problem.”  She looked surprised when Loki nodded without protest, but Tivan knew why: Loki wouldn’t be with him in a couple of standard days.

Tivan paid Tavia well for her services.  She protested, as he had expected she would, and claimed that Tivan was doing most of the healing all on his own, but he insisted.  Normally, he wouldn’t have been quite so generous even to a pretty girl, but he felt like being nice.  Tavia _had_ helped him immensely, whatever she said about it.

She walked with them out to their rented ship, which Loki had parked near her home, and curtsied rather nicely when Tivan bowed to her.  His ritual bow hurt, and Tavia saw his wince.

“Make him lie down,” she ordered Loki, “and keep an eye on him when you two get home.”

“Of course,” Loki muttered.

Tivan was a bit sorry to say goodbye to Tavia, all told, and he thought he might not forget her as he had forgotten so many people he’d met through the millennia.  He sat in the co-pilot’s chair and watched Moana fall away behind them on a small monitor while Loki pointed the ship toward the heart of the galaxy before them.  Moana was small and mostly blue, with only a few specks of brown landmasses.  As glad as he was to escape the glaring brightness of the little world, Tivan realized he had enjoyed being on actual, natural planets for a few days.

“I do wish I could go to Asgard with you,” Tivan murmured to Loki.

“Well, I told you before, you can’t.”  When the Collector glared at him, Loki sighed and looked at him sideways.  “I’m. . . sorry I’m being short-tempered, Tan.  I’m very tired.”

Tivan rather thought that _he_ had far more right to be tired, but as before, he felt generous.  “You’ve certainly had a stressful past few days,” he told the Asgardian.

Loki said nothing more for a few moments, but then out of nowhere, he continued, “I wish you could come with me too, but honestly, I don’t know what I’d do with you if you did.  It’s hard enough keeping myself hidden or disguised without the added strain of managing _you_. . . and anyway, you need to heal completely before you travel anywhere else.”

“I know, I know.”  Tivan waved him off with his good hand, then looked away and propped up his chin on it, sulking.  He wasn’t really peeved with Loki, more with the universe in general.

“You wouldn’t stay with me on Asgard, anyhow,” Loki went on, ignoring the gesture.  His green eyes were fixed on the galaxy ahead of them.  “Even if you could move your entire collection there, you wouldn’t leave Knowhere, and you know it.”

“Any more than _you_ would leave Asgard to be with _me_ ,” Tivan shot back.  When Loki didn’t dispute the fact, Tivan closed his eyes and sighed himself.  “And I wouldn’t ask that of you.  We have our separate lives, Loki, and both of us are too ambitious to give them up.”  A depressing thought occurred to him, and he voiced it; there was little point in holding anything back from Loki now.  “Can that really be love?”

To his amazement, Loki answered without hesitation.  “Yes.”  Tivan finally looked at him again, but Loki kept his gaze turned forward.  “Some cultures—ones I saw on Terra for instance—make romantic love into something very demanding.  It requires sacrifice, rather how familial love does on Asgard, I suppose.  In either case, if one loves truly, he must be willing to give up everything.  Both my brother and my father have been imprisoned by that sort of love—and it _disgusts_ me.”

The vehemence in Loki’s voice both startled and intrigued Tivan, and he kept quiet.  Loki had scowled out into the depths of space before them, but then he dropped his eyes and leaned his forehead into his hand, massaging his temple with his long fingers.

“I’ve always sworn I would place myself first instead—what _I_ wanted, not what my father and mother wanted, or my brother, or whatever lover I might have.  And I’ve done that—even with Astridr, even with _her_ , I’ve done it.  Yet I do love my family, and I do love her.”  Loki closed his luminous eyes, and his voice fell to little more than a whisper.  “And you. . . you don’t _ask_ me to sacrifice for you, and I love you all the more for it.  They want me to be better than what I am.  Astridr even believes I _can_ be a better person.  But you have no such delusions, and you love me anyway, enough to sacrifice for me.  Not because you are supposed to or I expect you to, but because. . . you _want_ to.”

“I don’t understand,” Tivan said when Loki finally fell silent.  “What sacrifice?  You’re right when you say I wouldn’t leave Knowhere, not forever.  I’m as selfish as you are in that respect.”

Loki shook his head as if amused at Tivan’s denseness, then got to his feet.  He went to Tivan’s chair and crouched down in front of it, looking up at the Collector.

“You shielded me from Waverly, when you were already hurt.  She would have killed me.  That’s when I knew you weren’t lying about loving me.”

Tivan frowned and looked away.  “I was only being practical.  As you say, she probably would have killed you, but she _couldn’t_ kill _me_.  How is it a sacrifice if I knew I could not die?”

“This is the single time in all the years I’ve known you,” Loki proclaimed, “that you have been _modest_ , and it’s all because you’re so obtuse.  You knew you could not die, but you also knew it was still going to _hurt_.  Not to mention how impossibly vain you are.”  As if to demonstrate, he leaned up and unzipped Tivan’s shirt part way to expose his badly bruised chest.  Tivan winced and refused to look.

“See?” Loki prompted.  “I know you hate looking bad, probably more than you hate hurting.  Deny it all you like, and swear to me a thousand times that Knowhere and your collection are more important to you than I am.  I’ll still know what I mean to you.”

Loki knelt on the edge of Tivan’s chair, knees on either side of Tivan’s, and caught the Collector’s chin in his hand.  Tivan sulked at him until Loki ran his thumb over the mark on his lip; then Tivan relented and tilted his head back so Loki could kiss him.  As before, Loki’s mouth made him forget his injuries, until Tivan lifted both arms to grasp the Asgardian’s hips.  A sharp band of pain clenched around his wounded arm, and he cringed back from Loki involuntarily.

Loki sighed and stood up.  “Go get in bed.  I’m giving you that injection Tavia let us have.”  When Tivan opened his mouth to protest, Loki cut him off, “Kyrie sent us so far away, it will take at least twenty hours for us to reach Knowhere.  I am _not_ listening to you complain the whole way.”

“At least give it to me here,” Tivan pled, but Loki shook his head.

“You’ll only hurt your back too if you sleep in this chair,” Loki insisted, “and Tavia said for you to go to bed.  Come on.”  Tivan gave up on arguing with him and followed him back to the cabin.

“What are _you_ going to do for the next twenty hours?” harrumphed Tivan as he got into bed.

“Eat something, to start with,” Loki grumbled.  “That fish breakfast was disgusting.  Don’t worry, I’ll find some way to amuse myself.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”  Tivan watched as Loki injected his arm, just above the stitched wound, with the painkillers from Tavia.  “Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

“I’ll get into _far_ less trouble than I would if you were awake,” Loki retorted.  Tivan yawned as the painkillers began to take effect, and the Asgardian gave him a smile that was only half-way a smirk.  “I’ll come check on you in a little while.”

Tivan was asleep before Loki even left the cabin, and this time, he did not dream.  When he awoke once during the flight, Loki was sleeping beside him.  Tivan dozed off again without meaning to, and when he next came awake, it was because Loki was shaking him.

“We’re almost there,” Loki told him when Tivan dragged his eyes open.  “It didn’t take quite as long as I’d thought, but you _still_ have been asleep for over eighteen hours.  You must be terribly hungry.”

“Mmmpgh,” grumbled Tivan.  But as he sat up, he realized he didn’t hurt as much as he had before, and when he chanced a look at his chest, he thought perhaps the bruises had faded a bit.

By the time Loki landed their ship on Knowhere, Tivan had changed his shirt into one that wasn’t torn to hide his injuries, and he decided he looked fairly normal, if a bit tired.  He certainly didn’t want to attract any attention on the way to his home.

“I’ll take care of returning the ship to its owner later,” he muttered to Loki as they prepared to disembark.  “At least the tesseracts didn’t damage _that_.”

With Loki disguised once more in one of his illusions, they walked slowly from the hangar back to Tivan’s showroom.  The clutter, noise, and neon glow of Knowhere seemed strange after the natural light and calmness of Kythica and Moana, but Tivan’s home also felt mundane, almost boring.  _I suppose I got the adventure I wanted,_ he thought morosely as he and his companion went on in silence.  They drew curious looks, but no one approached them, and Tivan was sure no one suspected what condition he was in.  That was good; the last thing he needed was for anyone to find out about his current weakened state.

Tivan’s guards were still in place outside his showroom—a minor miracle—but once he and Loki were inside, Tivan was glad the rest of his servants were absent, even if it meant preparing food himself now that he finally realized he was hungry after all.  Loki, undisguised once more, sat quietly while Tivan ate but refused any food himself.  Tivan didn’t talk much either, because really, what was there to say?  He remained on edge, waiting for the moment he knew would come soon: the moment when Loki said goodbye to him and left for Asgard.

But Loki surprised him.  As soon as Tivan had finished eating, before he could even attempt to clean up the rather sizable mess he’d made in the kitchen, Loki grasped his hand and began tugging him toward the lift that ran up to Tivan’s penthouse.

“Where are we going?” the Collector asked.  Despite his somewhat improved condition, he didn’t think he was up to anything too adventurous, much as he didn’t want to admit that to Loki, particularly when Loki seemed to be heading for his bedroom.

“I told you I’d do a better job of cleaning you up when we returned here, so I’m giving you a bath,” Loki announced.  He took Tivan up on the lift, then herded him to his bedroom suite.

“I won’t protest,” Tivan commented as they went, “but I can manage by myself if you’d rather not.”

“You aren’t supposed to get your arm wet, remember?” Loki told him.  As Tivan directed him to the bathroom in his suite, Loki muttered, “Anyhow, I must go soon.  Let me do this for you first.”

Loki was impressed with Tivan’s bath: a hot tub that was probably large enough for three or four average-sized beings.  The Asgardian sat Tivan down on the edge of it and began to undress him, mouth twitching in a half-smirk all the while.

“This is remarkable, and probably quite a waste of water. . . particularly for a place like Knowhere without its own ecosystem.”  Loki slipped Tivan’s shirt off of him then removed the bandage Tavia had put over the injury on his arm.  While he examined it, Tivan looked away.

“We produce water here chemically,” he retorted.  “There is plenty of it.”

“Oh, don’t feel like you have to come up with excuses,” Loki said.  “If you weren’t showy and wasteful, you wouldn’t be _you_.  Your arm is looking much better, you know.  I think the wound has completely sealed itself.  How is the pain?”

Tivan sighed and tried moving it a little.  “It still hurts. . . but it’s not so bad, I suppose.”

“Shall I make you forget all about it for a while?”  Loki dropped his hands to Tivan’s waist to unfasten his belt.  Tivan looked at him suspiciously but relaxed at the mischievous expression on the Asgardian’s lovely face.

“You’re taking advantage of me,” Tivan declared, even as he lifted his hips to let Loki slide his pants down.  “I can’t fight off your advances when I’m injured.”

Loki laughed outright and knelt between his legs to take off his boots.  “The day you fight off my advances, I’ll know the end of the universe is upon us.  And I don’t have anything strenuous in mind, so don’t get your hopes up.  I didn’t have any intention of making you forget anything at all until I saw how ridiculously large this bath is.  But since there _is_ room for me in there with you, I might as well have a bath too.”

He had finished undressing Tivan and stood to strip his own clothing off with efficient precision.  Tivan watched him anyway, a bit surprised at just how much desire he was feeling.  Banter aside, he hadn’t thought much about sex since Waverly’s attack, but the sight of Loki’s pale, lean body brought those thoughts right back.  Loki pretended to ignore Tivan’s staring and began to run hot water into the bath.  As it filled, he examined at least a dozen bottles lined up against the walls that bordered two sides of the tub.

“Is this _all_ soap?”

“Oh, of course not.  Most of them are extremely rare and expensive essential oils,” Tivan boasted.  “Er, and the one on the end is bubble bath.”

Loki didn’t quite laugh that time, but he appeared to be fighting back a chuckle.  “I think we should forgo the bubbles, for the moment anyway.”

Tivan pointed at a different bottle.  “Pour some of that one in.  It’s distilled from the moon flowers on Monori.”  Loki complied, his smile softening almost imperceptibly; then he shut off the water as the floral scent filled the expansive bathroom.

  
“All right, give me your hand—your good one.  I’m helping you in because otherwise you’re liable to slip and hurt yourself even worse,” Loki ordered, holding out one slender hand.  Tivan obeyed him, and Loki climbed into the bath after him as Tivan sank down into the hot water with a blissful sigh.

“This _was_ a good idea,” he admitted, resting his injured arm along the side of the tub out of the water’s reach.

“Mmn.  Don’t get too comfortable.  I’m going to wash your hair.”

“My hair is fine,” Tivan protested, thinking of how much work it would be to restyle, particularly without the full use of both hands.  “And anyway, how are you going to get it—”  He was cut off when Loki abruptly shoved him under the water; he narrowly missed submerging Tivan’s arm in the process.  Tivan came up spluttering.

“You _monster_.”

Loki glided around behind him and poured liquid soap into one hand.  “That’s hardly the worst thing I’ve been called,” he said as he began to run his soapy fingers through Tivan’s hair.  Tivan muttered to himself but submitted to the treatment, which _did_ feel quite nice although he wouldn’t admit it.  It didn’t matter how or where Loki touched him; any contact at all made Tivan’s heartbeat quicken a little.  He was almost sorry when Loki was finished.

“Close your eyes tightly and lean back,” Loki told him.  “I don’t want to rinse soap into them.”

“You’d better not,” Tivan sulked.  Loki pulled him back, gently this time, until his head rested in the Asgardian’s lap, and Tivan felt long fingers rinsing his hair.  After a moment, their motion stilled, and then Loki bent over him and pressed their mouths together.  Tivan’s lips parted all on their own; then he thrust his tongue upwards into Loki’s mouth.  He heard a faint moan in response before Loki started kissing him hard, hard and deep.

Finally Loki pulled back, complaining that his back was starting to hurt, and he made Tivan sit up again and lean back against the side of the tub.  Loki washed him, taking far more time than he had on Moana but teasingly avoiding all of Tivan’s attempts to touch or kiss him again.  Not until he had finished bathing Tivan did he consent to let the Collector rub soap over his body.  That took even longer since Tivan was forced to use only one hand, but he didn’t mind in the least as Loki straddled his lap and watched with those remarkable green eyes.  The Asgardian’s dark hair hung drenched and limp over his shoulders, but Tivan thought it probably looked far better wet than his own hair did.  Tivan trailed his fingers through the black strands before using his hand to rinse the last of the soap from Loki’s shoulders and chest.

“My treasure,” Tivan murmured, “of all the creatures I’ve observed in this vast galaxy of ours, you are by far the most beautiful.”  He splashed water over Loki’s angular hipbones protruding just above the surface, then slid his hand underwater to grip one of the Asgardian’s thighs.  Loki’s breath quickened slightly, and Tivan raised his eyes to meet Loki’s.  “I’m going to miss you terribly.”

Loki pressed his lips together in a tight line and lowered his gaze.  Tivan saw his throat work as he swallowed.

“As I shall miss you,” he finally answered.  He lifted his hands from where they had been resting lightly on Tivan’s shoulders and looked at the ring set with green crystal he still wore on his middle finger.  Loki grasped it with his other hand and pulled it off.  In response to the the surprised, almost hurt look Tivan cast him, Loki said, “I want you to wear it instead.  You’re the Collector, not me, and you did so admire these Kythican crystals.  And anyhow. . . .”  His lips curled slightly into a smile.  “Whenever I want to be reminded of the color of my eyes, I need only look in a mirror.  You need this more than I do, lest you forget.”

“Loki. . . .”  Tivan was amazed to find himself nearly choked with sudden tears, and he clamped his mouth shut.  Loki didn’t notice, or pretended not to, and leaned over to take Tivan’s left hand in his.  Careful of that arm’s injury, Loki caressed the back of his hand then slid the ring over the Collector’s fourth finger.  Tivan’s hand was larger than Loki’s, and the ring fit that finger perfectly.

“I’m not going to forget you, Loki,” Tivan muttered when he was able to speak again, although his voice still sounded raspy even to himself.  “If you wait too long before coming back to me, I’ll go to Asgard and _find_ you.  I can’t imagine that would be very good for your plans.”

“No.  Although my plans haven’t worked out so well thus far anyway.”  Loki leaned over him, bracing his hands on the sides of the bath so he wouldn’t put any weight on Tivan’s chest, and brushed Tivan’s lips with his again.  “Will you make love to me, Tan?” he whispered in between feather-light kisses.  “I want to feel you inside me again before I leave.”  At Tivan’s answering moan, Loki shifted his mouth to the Collector’s ear and whispered, “I _would_ insist on being inside _you_ again, if you weren’t in such fragile condition at the moment.  The next time we meet, I fully intend to have my way with you, but for now. . . .”  He sat back and tipped a bit more of the bath oil into his hand from the bottle, then dropped his hand into Tivan’s lap to stroke him.  “I want you to worship me with _this_. . . .”

Tivan groaned, wondering just how Loki always knew exactly what to say to drive him wild.  “Oh yes,” he breathed, “I’ll worship you, my divine prince—I’ll worship you until you _scream_!”

Loki rode him until they _both_ nearly screamed, and by the time they were through, Tivan really did need his help getting out of the bath.  Although Tivan put on his robe, Loki redressed in his clothing.

“I was hoping you might spend one more night with me,” Tivan murmured, but he hadn’t really expected it.

“I can’t.”  Loki had started for the bedroom where he’d left the tunic Tivan had given him, but he paused to look at the Collector.  “Will you be all right on your own—with your injuries, I mean?”  
  
“Yes, of course.”  Tivan waved off his concern.  “I’ll be fine, and tomorrow I’ll get my regular staff to come back, so I won’t even have to arrange my own meals anymore.”

“And you _will_ go see a doctor about getting the stitches out?” Loki persisted.  Tivan hadn’t actually planned on it, but he supposed a visit to an actual doctor wouldn’t be a bad idea considering his condition.

“I will, my dear, I promise,” Tivan assured him.  Despite Tivan’s feeling that it was unnecessary, Loki’s concern touched him.

After Loki retrieved his tunic, they went down to the showroom and stood facing one another just inside the corridor which led to the outer door.  Loki’s hair was still damp, although Tivan’s had mostly dried and regained some of its usual fluffiness.  Loki smirked as he ran his fingers through it, but then the smile faded and he regarded Tivan with an expression that was serious and, Tivan thought, a bit sad.

“Goodbye, Taneleer,” Loki whispered.

Tivan brought his hand to Loki’s cheek then leaned in to kiss him.  “Goodbye, Loki,” he murmured against the Asgardian’s lips.  “I love you.”  There were a thousand other things he wanted to say as well, most of them some form of begging Loki to stay with him, but he knew there was little point.

Loki pressed his forehead against Tivan’s as he murmured back, “ _Ek ann ther_.”  Then, more fiercely, “I will come back to you.  I swear it.”

He pulled away from Tivan’s grasp and turned, not looking back as he walked down the short corridor to the door out into Knowhere, the red fabric of the tunic bundled and clenched in one hand.  Tivan watched him until Loki’s form began to shimmer as he assumed the illusory disguise he had worn when he first came to Knowhere several days ago, that of the beautiful woman.  Tivan turned away then and retreated back to his penthouse, without waiting to see Loki leave.

His arm and chest only ached faintly—his chest actually hurt more than the arm, which surprised him—but Tivan went to bed anyhow.  He longed for the oblivion of sleep, and he wished he had another syringe of pain killers to bring it quickly.  _I suppose that’s why Tavia didn’t want me to have any more,_ he thought.  _Smart girl_.  He decided against even taking a sleeping pill and lay down in his dark bedroom.  For the first time in days, he was truly alone. . . and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he hated it.

_Tomorrow,_ he decided as he half-consciously drew a finger of his right hand over the ring on the left, _I’ll bring the staff back and hire another assistant, and then I’ll start making calls—it’s time I got that showroom filled again.  I may never own a tesseract, but they aren’t the only treasures in the galaxy.  Moping around won’t accomplish anything!_   All very fine thoughts, but they didn’t make it any easier for him to fall asleep or to stop wishing Loki were still by his side.

\--

To be continued


	13. Chapter 13

“This really, _really_ isn’t a good time,” Tivan told Howard the Duck some two weeks later.  It would _never_ be a good time for Howard to turn up in his showroom again, in fact, but Tivan was especially unwilling to see the duck just then.

“Oh, I’m just passin’ through, Whitey,” Howard reassured him, leaning against the tesseract model’s display case and sipping the drink Tivan had fixed for him.  “Thought I’d drop in and check on ya.”

Tivan harrumphed and stood up a little straighter as he tasted his own drink.  Perhaps the only upside to Howard’s visit was the excuse to have a cocktail in the middle of the day.

“I’m doing very well, thank you,” he muttered to the duck.  It was more or less the truth, physically anyway: the horrid bruising on his chest had almost all faded except for a few faint patches tinged with yellow, and his arm had healed.  A thread of scarring was forming where Waverly had severed his flesh, with lines of unevenly spaced dots above and below from Tavia’s stitches; Tivan hated how the darker skin of the scar stood out from the rest of his arm, but at least he normally wore long sleeves.  He was still, however, seriously contemplating the tattoo he had mentioned to Loki.

“Whatever happened with findin’ that tesseract for your boyfriend?” Howard asked as he crossed one yellow ankle over the other and eyed Tivan over his glass.

Tivan nearly spit out his drink.  “Excuse me?” he asked, hoping he sounded like he had no idea what Howard meant.  Had the duck somehow found out what had happened?

Howard raised his feathery eyebrow.  “Last time I was here, that creepy guy was askin’ you to find him a tesseract.”

“Oh, that.”  Tivan waved a hand dismissively.  “No, it didn’t pan out.”

“The tesseract-findin’,” Howard persisted, “or you makin’ it with that long-haired pretty-boy?”

“Either,” said Tivan.  He supposed it wasn’t a complete lie, since neither action had gone quite as planned.

“Hunh.  I’d say too bad, but it probably ain’t,” shrugged the duck.  “Bet you’re better off without either.”

Tivan looked down into his glass and murmured, “Maybe so.”

\--

That night, Tivan lay alone in his bed, trying for the first time since his injury to go to sleep on his chest.  He had managed to find a comfortable position that didn’t press on the faint remaining bruises, but sleep still refused to bless him.  He had gotten rid of Howard by threatening to re-collect the duck if he didn’t go drink somewhere else, but Tivan’s mind kept returning to what Howard had asked.  Not the part about the tesseract, but the part about Tivan’s “long-haired, pretty-boy boyfriend.”

Tivan hadn’t heard from Loki since the Asgardian left two weeks ago.  The Collector had distracted himself with his collection, with hiring more staff and refilling his showroom, but every time he looked at the crystalline tesseract model or the ring he never took off his finger, he missed Loki with an ache that shook him to his very core.

_You’re better than this,_ he scolded himself, _sulking like an adolescent with a crush!_

He had just managed to doze off when something shook him out of his sleep.  Tivan growled in frustration and opened one eye to see the cause: a glow of vivid blue light emanating from the middle of his bedroom.  He came fully awake with a jolt and scrambled to sit up in bed, his hand automatically moving toward the control panel by his nightstand to summon his assistant. . . until he remembered that he no longer _had_ a live-in assistant.  It also occurred to him that he should start keeping a weapon by his bed as well as a control panel.  He wasn’t exactly _afraid_ of whatever had suddenly joined him in his bedroom, but he _did_ wonder how it had gotten in past all his security measures.

As Tivan was mulling all this over, the blue glow had faded somewhat.  When his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized the glow was coming from something small and still very bright, held in the palm of. . . Loki?  Tivan was certain he was dreaming, but when he stammered the Asgardian’s name, he got that familiar smirk in return.

“Surprised?” Loki purred.

“Surprised and blinded,” Tivan muttered, rubbing his eyes.  “How in the heavens did you get past—”  He broke off and looked again at the blue thing as it all clicked into place.  “Oh.  That’s—my word.  The tesseract.”  He drew back slightly and tugged his sheet up a bit closer to his neck.  He still was not quite afraid, but he hadn’t expected ever to see a tesseract again—nor had he desired to, after what Waverly had done to him.

“Yes,” said Loki.  He looked at the shining blue thing in his hand.  “This is Astridr.  Astridr, this is Taneleer Tivan.  The Collector.”

Tivan looked at the tesseract too, although he had to squint slightly.  She was very different from Waverly, brighter and far more compact—as Loki had said, about the size of Abdiel when he’d been imprisoned in the containment vessel.  She was also silent, and Tivan began to wonder if she weren’t a different species of tesseract than those on Kythica.  In fact, he began to wonder if she was even sentient.  Perhaps Loki really _was_ insane.

_Or else **I’m** insane,_ Tivan thought, _hallucinating that Loki and a tesseract just popped into existence in my bedroom!_

Nevertheless, Tivan decided he should be polite, just in case.  He let his sheet fall to his waist as he bowed from his seated position.

“My lady.  You’ll have to forgive me for not standing up—I’m, ah. . . not attired to receive guests,” he explained, which sounded nicer than the truth—that he wasn’t attired at all.  He drew the sheet back up over his chest, more to keep Loki from seeing the residual bruising than to cover himself from Astridr’s view.

And then the tesseract laughed.  Her laughter was the most beautiful sound Tivan had ever heard, and yet, he _didn’t_ hear it, not with his ears.  The melodious, almost symphonic tones echoed within his mind, as had the voices of Waverly and Abdiel in their tesseract forms.  Tivan stared at her, at the way her light glimmered when she laughed, and even Loki looked down in surprise at her cupped in his palm.

“You _do_ know that I can see inside you?”  Astridr’s voice was as lovely as her laughter.

“In. . . side?”  Discomfited by her speech as much as by her words, Tivan looked down at himself.  “What?”

“If you, a three-dimensional being, looked down upon a two-dimensional creature—what you might call a single-celled organism—you could see its innards,” she proclaimed in the tone a teacher might use with a young child.  _A teacher, or a preachy older sister,_ Tivan thought.  He was beginning to understand the nature of Loki’s relationship with her.  Astridr continued, “In the same manner, I, a four-dimensional being, can look down upon _your_ three-dimensional innards.”

“What a _fascinating_ thought,” Tivan muttered, hugging his sheet a little closer about his body.

“Shall I poke you inside and prove it to you?”  He wasn’t sure if she were in earnest or only making a dismal joke until she went on, “Your lungs are still bruised though, so I’d have to be careful.  It will hurt anyway, and if you’re already injured, it would hurt _worse_.”

“No thank you.”  Tivan inched backward in bed until his back was pressed against the headboard.  “I believe you.”

Loki appeared to be trying not to laugh at Tivan when he said, “Astridr has spent a lot of time alone.  Sometimes her manner of socializing is a bit. . . odd.”  Tivan nodded and eyed the tesseract, who either ignored Loki’s aside or didn’t hear it.

Astridr continued, “By the way, I am truly sorry that it was a tesseract who injured you so badly.  I understand if you are frightened of me now, although I would never harm you.  Unless you had nefarious designs on me, of course, which Loki assures me you do not.  And really, that explains why the guardian on Kythica attacked you, and I _told_ Loki that seeking out other tesseracts was not wise.  But then, I also told him it was not wise to seek _your_ assistance in doing so because I thought he could not trust you.  Yet I was wrong about that, and what’s more, you’ve made him very happy.  But anyhow!  You do not need to cover yourself in front of me since I can see everything inside and outside of you, whether you’re wearing clothing or not.”

She certainly _could_ talk, Tivan thought.  He also thought about how glad he was he didn’t know of the tesseracts’ four-dimensional vision when he visited Kythica; it would have made his interactions there even more awkward.

“That’s enough, Astridr,” Loki said, sounding as if he were talking through clenched teeth.  “I believe he understands.”  He took a step forward to the side of Tivan’s bed and looked down at him, his pale face lit by the tesseract’s blue glow.  Tivan gazed back, nearly forgetting about Astridr entirely.

“You tessered here,” he murmured.  “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Loki shrugged, playing it off.  “Only if someone should discover that Astridr is missing from the vault.  I have left a decoy—vastly inferior, to be sure, but passable, I believe—but it’s unlikely that anyone will venture down there in the next few hours.”

“But. . . .”  Tivan hesitated, not wanting to offend the tesseract.  “Wasn’t she. . . contained?”

Astridr seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.  “My _smaar brodir_ is coming to trust that I won’t run away from him,” she said.  “And anyway, where would I go?  You have seen why I don’t wish to return to Kythica.”

“As it turns out, tessering is actually the safest way,” Loki interrupted Astridr with an uncomfortable glance down at her.

When Tivan prompted, “The safest way. . . ?” Loki looked at him instead.

“The safest way for me to come here.  I’ve had no chance to get away from Asgard otherwise, and I. . . .”  Loki hesitated, long fingers clenching over the glowing, crystalline cube he held; then he muttered, “I had to know if you were all right.”

“Loki. . . .”  Tivan reached out to clasp Loki’s left hand, the one not holding the tesseract.  “I’m all right—nearly well, in fact.  My only complaint is that I’ve been longing for _you_.”  Even in the blue light, he could see Loki’s face darken in a blush, and Tivan smirked himself.  Embarrassing Loki in front of Astridr was rather enjoyable.

Still, when Tivan tugged on Loki’s hand, the Asgardian gave in and knelt on the bed beside the Collector to kiss him.  At first, their lips barely touched, but even that faint contact made Tivan shiver with desire.  He reached up with his other hand to lace his fingers into Loki’s hair and draw him closer, crushing their mouths together.  Loki’s lips parted, and his tongue flicked into Tivan’s mouth.

“Mmmn,” Tivan moaned as he thrust his own tongue forward against Loki’s.  All the pent-up desire he had been holding in for the past two weeks threatened to overwhelm him—and probably _would_ have, if not for Astridr’s presence.  But Loki paid her less heed than Tivan did, and he actually dropped her on the bed so he could grasp the Collector’s hair with his right hand and hold Tivan against him as they kissed.  Finally, though, Loki broke the kiss and drew back to catch his breath.

“Let me see your arm,” he said, nearly panting, as he used both hands to turn Tivan’s arm toward the light Astridr cast.  Tivan wished Loki hadn’t looked, but at least the blue glow was more forgiving than a harsher white light would be.

“There’s a scar,” muttered Tivan.  “But my chest at least looks almost normal now.  The bruises are nearly gone.”

“Are you in pain?”  Loki brushed his thumb over the fresh scar, and Tivan shuddered at the touch.

“No.  The new skin is still very sensitive, but otherwise my arm has completely healed.  Do stop prodding it though,” he added in a mutter.  “I’d rather you didn’t see it.”

“I’ve seen it look worse,” observed Loki, and he bent his head to brush Tivan’s scar with his lips.

“A-aah—!” Tivan whimpered at the sensation, but Loki pretended not to notice.

“It doesn’t matter what your arm looks like.  All I care for is that you’re well,” he murmured.  He drew his hand over Tivan’s bare chest, and Tivan shuddered again.

“I remember,” the Collector responded in a low voice, “you promising me something. . . something you’d do to me when you saw me again.  If your lady tesseract weren’t here, I would insist on you keeping that promise.”

Loki looked at him, one eyebrow slightly lifted; then he leaned past Tivan to grasp one of his pillows.  Loki dropped it on top of Astridr and looked at Tivan again.

“I can still see you, you know,” the tesseract pointed out from beneath the pillow.

“Shall I put her in your closet?” Loki suggested.

“Won’t she be able to see us from in there too?”

“I _could_ ,” Astridr interrupted, “but I shan’t be looking.  Nor listening, if I can help it.  And your closet is likely far more interesting than Asgard’s vault, so I won’t mind.”

Tivan did feel a bit embarrassed when Loki stood and scooped Astridr up from beneath the pillow—a tesseract, the Space Infinity Stone, here in his own home, and it was going into the closet!  But as he watched Loki saunter over to the double doors leading into Tivan’s vast dressing room, the Collector decided the real treasure was the one coming back to his bed.

When he leaned over and turned on a lamp on his bedside table, bringing a dim but warmer glow to the room, Tivan saw that Loki was wearing the red tunic the Collector had given him.  It hung down to Loki’s upper thighs, and those were covered in the form-fitting pants Tivan especially liked.  Watching Loki move brought back all the desire Tivan had felt when they kissed, and he fidgeted with impatience when the Asgardian disappeared into the dressing room.

Impatience aside, Loki took an awfully long time to return, and finally Tivan called after him, “I know I have rather a lot of clothes, but surely you haven’t gotten lost in there.”

“Just a moment!  If you’ve waited for me this long, you can stand another minute or two,” Loki retorted from within.

Tivan sighed, although Loki wouldn’t be able to hear him in the other room, and waited.  When Loki eventually emerged, without the tesseract, Tivan turned to complain, but the words died in his mouth.

“You said gold clashes with your hair,” accused Loki, only wearing—barely—the gold silk robe he’d put on the first night they spent together, “so why did you have this in your closet?”

“I. . . ah, I haven’t been wearing it,” Tivan managed to stammer as his eyes moved down Loki’s body.  Barely hanging on his shoulders, the robe was open to his waist where a tie held it closed. . . more or less.  Tivan couldn’t _quite_ see everything, but between the filminess of the fabric and the way it hung open again at mid-thigh, very little was left to his imagination.  He swallowed hard and continued, “I kept it in there because it reminded me of you—it still had your scent on it.  Although, I must say. . . I’d forgotten just how divine you look in it.”

Loki smiled, his vanity satisfied by Tivan’s reaction, and moved to the edge of the bed.  Tivan tortured himself another moment by admiring his lover without touching him, but then he reached out to grip the backs of Loki’s thighs through the fabric of his robe.  Leaning over, Tivan pressed his lips to Loki’s breastbone and trailed caresses down it to his bare stomach.

“Oh, my love,” he murmured, not caring how theatrical the endearment sounded since he meant it literally.  “You can’t imagine how much I’ve missed you.”

“Perhaps I can,” Loki murmured.  He stroked Tivan’s hair, running his fingers upwards through it.  Tivan tilted his head back and shifted his left hand up to Loki’s neck, intending to draw him down for a kiss, but Loki clasped his wrist and moved the hand into his line of sight.

“You’re still wearing the ring.”

Tivan looked up at him and watched Loki’s face as he said, “I haven’t taken it off since you put it on me.”

Loki smiled, as soft a smile as his sharp face could manage, and let Tivan’s hand go.  This time when Tivan pulled his head downward, Loki went, and they kissed more softly than before.

“How long can you stay?” Tivan whispered.

“Only until morning, regrettably—or what passes for morning around here.”  Loki sat down on the bed in front of him.  “But now that I know Astridr can make the trip here easily. . . as long as my decoy has worked, I should be able to visit you more often.”  He gave a soft moan of approval when Tivan tilted his head to kiss Loki’s neck and suck gently on his skin there.  “I want you to take me to the symphony again.”

“Mmn, I would be delighted, darling,” Tivan said in between kisses.  “I’ll commandeer the garden again, so we’ll have it all to ourselves.  Perhaps I’ll make love to you up there, hmm?”

“You have absolutely no shame, do you?” Loki sighed, even as he slipped his arms around Tivan and pulled him closer.

“Absolutely none.  Especially where you are concerned, my radiant god of mischief.  Now come have your way with me like you promised,” Tivan finished in what was nearly a growl.  When the Collector lay back against the pillows, the radiant god of mischief allowed himself to be drawn down to the bed too.

\--

Tivan awoke the next morning to Loki snuggled against him, one arm draped across Tivan’s collarbone and over his shoulder as he nuzzled the Collector’s rumpled hair.  Tivan smiled and shifted to wrap his own arm around Loki’s waist.  His hand met bare skin, Loki’s robe having slipped off at some point during the night.  Loki started, then froze in place when he realized Tivan was awake.

“Not so long ago,” Tivan murmured, “if someone had told me I’d wake up one morning and find you cuddling with me, I would have laughed.”

“I was not cuddling with you.”  Loki withdrew from him and rolled over on his side, facing away from Tivan.  Tivan smirked and moved with him, putting his arm around Loki’s waist again and pressing his chest to the Asgardian’s back.

Tivan leaned over Loki to whisper against his ear, “Have it your way, my dear boy.  You may call it whatever you like—I don’t care, as long as you’re with me. . . because I love you.”  He transferred his mouth to Loki’s pale, slender neck and began to kiss it until Loki arched back against him, tangling their legs together.

“I love you too,” Loki muttered, “even though you’re infuriating.  I need to retrieve my tesseract from your closet and go home, not—”  He broke off in a gasp as Tivan flicked his tongue into the hollow just above his clavicle and slid his hand downward.  “— _not_ let you delay me with. . . with. . . nngh, _Tan_. . . .”

“What were you saying, darling?” the Collector teased with another nip to Loki’s neck.  “You want to delay going home?”

Loki sighed, “Yes, I suppose I do.  Taneleer. . . I can’t say no to you—you know I can’t.”  He turned his head to catch Tivan’s mouth and kiss him; then Loki gave in entirely and smiled.

“How ironic,” said Tivan with an unusually tender smile of his own.  “That’s been _my_ problem all along.”

\--

The End


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